


A Jedi in Sith Robes

by ACelestialDream



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Sith Era - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama, F/M, Gen, SWTOR, Slavery, Some Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-08-29 17:46:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 84,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8499310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ACelestialDream/pseuds/ACelestialDream
Summary: Mordivai can trace his family lineage through a long line of prominent Sith lords.  His young life takes an unexpected turn, however, when a shipwreck lands him among agents of the Republic, and he grows up trading his privileged Imperial life for the austerity of the Jedi Order. When circumstances bring him back into the hands of the Empire once again, his dedication to the light is put to the test.





	1. Shipwreck

“Welcome passenger number 679,” said the droid at the check-in desk. His cheerful, modulated voice made him sound like he was greeting an old friend, perhaps in an attempt to make him seem personable. A scanner in his hand spit out a flickering red light. “Mordivai Quinn,” the droid announced next. “Your records indicate that you are underage for solo galactic travel and have been assigned a mouse droid to accompany you. Please wear this bracelet.”

“I’m almost thirteen,” Mordivai said. “So I’m practically of age already.”

“Yes, yes,” the droid said, undeterred. “Maybe on your next trip you can fly unaccompanied.”

Mordivai rolled his eyes and held out his wrist. “My mother is a Sith lord! If she were here-”

“Then you wouldn’t need this wristband,” the droid interrupted. If a droid’s eyes could sparkle than this one’s surely were. Mordivai scowled but dropped the subject. A green light blinked on the bracelet and a tiny droid the size of Mordivai’s shoe scurried around the corner, stopping at his feet like a trained dog.

“Enjoy your trip!” the check-in droid said.

When Mordivai walked away, the mouse droid’s wheels kicked into gear and it kept pace with him. Once he was out of sight of any onlookers, he tried running, but the droid sped up, racing after him, its tiny gears whirring and its antenna spinning like a top. Mordivai resigned himself to having the droid as his shadow all the way to Nar Shaddaa.

His holocom beeped shortly after take-off, and Mordivai’s father appeared. He was dressed in uniform, his face serious as always.

“How was your visit with Lord Morella?”

“Fine,” Mordivai said automatically. There had been nothing remarkable about his visit to see his grandmother on Korriban. He’d snuck out of bed to try and watch one of Lord Morella’s famed galas, but had been caught - as always - and had spent much of his time playing “Sith and slave” with some of the other neighborhood children. The only thing different about this trip was that he was finally being allowed to travel alone at the end of it.

“It looks like your transport is scheduled to arrive on time. I’ll meet you at the spaceport then. Don’t get into any trouble.”

“I can take care of myself, father.”

“I expect that you will,” Admiral Quinn answered. The holo blinked out.

00o00

Being alone on the ship that first day was exhilarating, and Mordivai spent hours exploring every hallway, lounge and dining area the ship had. There was even a casino, but when he tried to go in there, the mouse droid began beeping and spinning until Mordivai went out of range of the doorway. No one would have stopped him on Nar Shaddaa. For dinner he tried to order a Roba steak slathered in gravy and discovered to his chagrin that he was restricted to a pre-set menu for children. _When I’m Sith,_ he thought, _no one will stop me from ordering whatever I want._ Afterwards, Mordivai had gotten lost trying to find his way back to his cabin. He remembered that the droid had a homing button to lead him back and decided that maybe his droid babysitter wasn’t so bad after all.

At night, his excitement faded. Once the light was out in his cabin it was so black that he could only see the tiniest ray of light coming in from under the door. The ship hummed underneath him and the thought of this great passenger ship hurling through the silent vastness of space was unnerving. He lay in bed, blinking at the nothingness before him and listening to the rumbling of the ship’s engines. _A Sith is never afraid,_ he admonished himself. The mouse droid had taken up residence at the foot of his bed like a favored pet, its lens watching him in the dark. Mordivai actually felt a little better for its company.

The next day started out much like the first. Mordivai ate his allotted portion of buttered toast, but was delighted to discover a lounge set out with free pastries. He downed two of these before he was shooed out. He later came across a room showing free holovids, and he lost a few hours watching those until a documentary on gladiatorial animal handlers came on and he grew bored. He had just decided to see if the ship came with a library when the floor shook under his feet, bouncing him off a nearby wall. Immediately a voice came over the ship-wide intercom.

_“The ship has encountered some instability. Please proceed to your cabin. Do not be alarmed.”_

Mordivai groaned. This trip was about to get twenty times more boring. He turned around and trudged down the corridor. The humming of the ship’s engines was louder here, and he had been hoping to pass near the engine room, maybe even get a peek inside. No such luck now though. He wondered if he’d be able to find his way back to this spot later. Maybe the droid had a map embedded in--

Mordivai was in mid-thought when a blast erupted, tossing him off his feet. The wall beside him exploded outward, turning shrapnel into blazing projectiles and lighting the room with a flash. A searing heat swept over him, igniting a spark of pain that ripped into the flesh of his face. He hollered and shielded his arms over his head. His cry was lost in the blaring echo that deafened his ears. Faintly he heard the intercom buzzing above him but could not make out the words.

He stumbled to his feet and began to run, heedlessly and with little direction, as long as it was away from that blazing heat. He heard a wailing behind him which grew ever more screeching in pitch and realized that the mouse droid was trapped in the debris from the blast and could no longer follow him. It’s alarm screamed defiance but soon faded as Mordivai’s feet took him farther away. More rumbles shook the floor.

_“Proceed immediately to your designated cabins. We are investigating the source of the disturbance.”_ The intercom voice was inordinately calm.

Mordivai darted around a corner, nearly barreling into some service crew members who were running towards him. One of them held out a hand to stop him.

“What happened? Are you hurt?”

Mordivai opened his mouth to speak but the man’s female partner snorted. “He’s missing half his kriffin’ face, are you blind? We got a real situation here.” She turned her eyes, blazing with urgency, to him. “Boy, get yourself to the med bay right away.”

“Where’s the--” Mordivai’s cheek cracked when he opened his mouth and he doubled over, feeling light-headed with pain. Distantly he heard the man’s comm unit crackle.

_“We’re redirecting to Boonta for emergency repairs. Get things under control down there!”_

“What’s your cabin number, lad?” the man asked.

His cabin, yes, what was the number? Mordivai’s head felt like it was stuffed with a wet blanket. He stared at the man.

“He’s in shock, don’t ask him questions,” the woman said. “Son, go to the third level and follow the green line in the carpet, ok? Straight to the med bay.”

Mordivai nodded. Green line. Third door. No, third floor. Follow the carpet. Right. Was he really missing half his face?

He ran on, but all the lifts he encountered were blinking red and the doors wouldn’t open. He doubled back, looking for a stairway. Another blast shook the ship and Mordivai was knocked to the ground. A two-tone alarm began blaring from the intercom speakers. If there were any more instructions for passengers to follow, Mordivai could not hear them. Acrid smoke drifted down the corridor from where he had just come, making his vision hazy and indistinct.

He spotted a stairway and loped toward it. Halfway up the stairs he fell again as the ship began listing. No more stabilizer. That had to be bad. He gripped the railing and pulled himself up the tilting staircase and threw himself through the door at the top.

 _There!_ A line in the carpet. The floor heaved underneath him and he was brought to his knees. Under his hands he saw that the line was blue, not green. Where was the green line leading to the med bay? How many flights of stairs had he gone up? Had he gone up one too many or not enough?

He pushed himself to his feet. He was feeling strangely light, was he going to pass out? No, he realized, this was different. His whole body was feeling more and more weightless and he had the strangest sensation that he was rising like a balloon. He realized what was happening. The ship’s gravity generator was failing.

The lights flickered and went dim, then began wavering in brightness in a dizzying way. There was one last burst of light and then they went out entirely. Mordivai sucked in a panicked breath and realized that he was crying. Shame burned through him. He had to be brave!

Around him, small pools of light formed along the floor and Mordivai as the emergency lights engaged. Thank the Force. He stumbled forward once more, breaking into a run.

The blaring of the alarm cut out and a new voice came over the intercom. It sounded breathless and human.

_“All passengers proceed to the loading level and prepare to board escape pods. Do not bring your belongings. If you are separated from your party continue to the loading level. Do not return to your cabin. This is not a drill.”_

The message repeated several times before being replaced again by the mournful wailing of the alarm. Mordivai realized he was shaking.

Loading level. Which level was that? He entered the nearest staircase and was soon joined by a swarm of people all pressing together as they tried to cram themselves onto the staircase at once. Mordivai was pushed around several times in the throng. He was thrust into a family at one point, coming face to face with a tear-streaked child. A woman was gripping the child’s hand so tightly that her knuckles were white. “We’re going to be all right,” she repeated over and over. “We’ll be safe in the escape pods, honey.”

Mordivai felt a terrible pang of jealousy. What he wouldn’t do to have his mother’s larger-than-life presence beside him now, to hear her voice, confident and fearless, telling him that they were going to face down this terrible day and come out all right. What he wouldn’t give to hear his father calmly assessing the situation, explaining everything, and telling him what to do. Why did he have to be alone?

He followed the push of the crowd and soon saw crew personnel ahead, waving their arms and directing people into gaping circular doorways. The escape pods. They filled quickly and Mordivai was pushed further and further down the hallway. Would there be one left for him when he finally got close enough?

“Get in, boy, get in!” A strong hand grabbed him and thrust him towards a dark doorway. Mordivai stumbled over the threshold. Inside was a dark compartment, filled with narrow seats. A sign above his head declared the maximum occupancy to be twenty-six. Mordivai fell into a seat and pulled on the restraints with shaking hands. He had been one of the last to enter this pod. The man outside was pushing the door closed, grunting as he did so, his face strained and red. The door’s mechanical controls must have failed.

“Are we going to Boonta?” Mordivai asked.

“What?” the man said. “No. Too far from Boonta. You’ll be landing on Saleucami.” The door locked shut with a bang.

Saleucami was in Hutt controlled space. At least he had made it that far. What would his father think when he found out his transport ship had crashed? Would he know to come find him on Saleucami instead?

“Landing, my ass!” said a voice behind him. “There’s an asteroid field surrounding the whole planet! Like we’ll even survive the landing!”

Nearby a child burst into sobs.

A woman rounded on the man who had just spoken. “Stop it! Just stop it!”

Mordivai covered his ears with his hands, holding back tears of his own. The pod shook and a tinny, mechanical voice spoke from the wall.

“Ejecting in sixty seconds. Stay seated and fasten all restraints.”

Nearby a man was breathing in gasps, his face white and shiny with sweat. Someone behind him laughed, but it sounded forced and weak. “Hold on everybody!”

“Ejecting in thirty seconds.”

Mordivai’s sense of time was distorted and slow.

“...Ten seconds...” The voice began a countdown. “...Zero,” it said. “Ejection imminent.”

Mordivai closed his eyes. A force like the hand of a giant crushed him into his seat, forcing all air from his chest. He struggled to breathe, but his lungs were flattened and impotent. Spots swirled before his eyes.

_This must be what dying feels like,_ he thought.


	2. An Unlikely Initiate

Master Gatten Riel watched the boy lying unconscious on the cot. A large bandage hid half of his face but through the wrappings he could see fair skin and a cheek dotted with freckles. The boy couldn’t be more than eleven, twelve maybe. He was slight and skinny as a flag pole, with brilliant red hair. Unnaturally red for a human, Gatten thought. The boy most likely had Sith blood.

“Master Gatten.” A Wroonian approached him, holding out a battered holopad that was easily ten years old. “There’s no exact match for the kid, but I found two similar bio-records which are likely his parents. His genetic make-up is close to that of a human named Malavai Quinn, who is an Admiral in the Imperial Navy. His mother must be some high ranking Sith lord because we don’t have much on her.”

“I knew this pup was bad news the moment I laid eyes on him.” Commander Braskel walked in, patting the dust from his uniform. “This is Republic business, Jedi. You should turn him over to me.”

“No. The boy is Force sensitive.”

“He’s worth too much. We could ransom him, maybe even strike a blow in this war if his parents are as high up as you say.”

“We only know the mother is a Pureblood Darth,” the Wroonian cut in.

Braskel arched an eyebrow. “See? He’s a valuable Republic asset.”

“Absolutely not.” Gatten stared down the commander, knowing that in spite of the man’s bravado, Gatten himself still had the upper hand. “You turn him back over to the Empire and he grows up as a Sith. How many hundreds of Republic citizens, soldiers, even Jedi might he slay in his lifetime? This is far bigger than some ransom.”

“You want to make him a Jedi?”

Gatten glanced over at the boy and said nothing. Braskel snorted.

“Good luck with that. You think you can hide him from his parents?”

“He’ll be safe with the Order.”

“So you say,” Braskel muttered. “So you say.” He thrust his hands onto his hips. “Fine, keep him then. He’s your problem.” He turned and marched out the door.

Gatten turned to the Wroonian. “How long until the boy’s well enough to travel?”

“Soon, hopefully. There’s isn’t much else we can do for him here with the limited supplies we have. I put a Kolto pack on his burn, but he’ll have permanent facial scarring, most likely.”

Gatten nodded. “Send word to me when he wakes up.”

“Sure, Master Jedi.”

00o00

Gatten returned to the Republic outpost a few days later to find Mordivai sitting up in bed. He was sullen and pale and wouldn’t look Gatten in the eye. Gatten wasn’t sure if he was wary of all strangers or mistrustful of Gatten in particular because he was both a Cathar and a Jedi.

“I’m Master Gatten Riel.” He tried to make his voice sound friendly, yet neutral. “You survived quite an ordeal. Not all the passengers on that ship were as lucky as you.”

The boy scowled and said nothing.

“I want you to know that your ship was not attacked. That engine malfunction would have happened sooner or later, even if you had been in Imperial space.”

“Why should I believe you?” Mordivai looked at him with eyes that were a stark and frigid blue.

“I have no reason to lie to you. If the Republic had attacked that ship it would be all over the holonet by now.”

Mordivai looked away and frowned.

“You were the only Force sensitive found aboard your pod. As such, you are of interest to me.”

“I’m a Sith!” Mordivai’s voice was hoarse from disuse and his fingers clenched at the blanket covering his knees.

“No,” Gatten said quietly. “You are no Sith. Not yet anyway.”

“My mother will slice you to ribbons! My father will track you down! You can’t keep me here!”

“You are a prisoner of war,” Gatten said calmly. “I can release you to the authorities right now and you will languish behind an energy wall for the rest of your life.” It was a white lie that had to be told. The Republic would never jail a child, Imperial or no. But Gatten doubted that the Empire would have made such a concession, and that’s the only reality this child knew.

“Or...” Gatten spoke slowly, as if the idea was only now coming to him. “You could learn the ways of the Force. You could come with me and I could teach you.”  
“Jedi are weak! I could never become a Jedi!”

“I didn’t say you would become a Jedi. Only a select few have what it takes to do that.”

Mordivai looked up at that and narrowed his eyes, but Gatten could see that he had caught the boy’s attention. “Then why teach me anything?”

“The Force lives within you. I am obligated to reach out to those who are gifted in the Force.” Another lie. Or partial one, anyway. Mordivai was far too strong in the Force to leave him untrained. Could he be a Jedi? Only time would tell that. But Gatten Riel had a habit of taking on the more challenging cases and this would by far be his biggest one yet.

“What do you say?”

“I want to go home.” He sounded young and afraid.

“Our factions are at war. Things are never simple during wartime.”

“Where will you take me?”

“Mycroft, or maybe even Tython, but you will not be staying at one of the academies. You are too old to begin training there.” And too risky, Gatten thought. “The Jedi Service Corps will take you in for now and I will do what I can to see that you are educated in the Force.”

Mordivai’s shoulders fell and he looked much smaller than his years. “Doesn’t sound like I have a choice.”

“You will be treated far better there than you ever would be in prison.”

Gatten waited until it was clear that Mordivai had no more questions and then left. Now he had one very important holocall to make. Informing the Order of what he had decided to do was not something he was looking forward to.

00o00

Gatten directed the transport vehicle into a swoop and made for the landing pad of Tython’s Service Corp campus. He stole Mordivai a look. The boy sat next to him, his nose pressed against the glass as he watched the trees grow closer as they descended. The bandage had come off his face, revealing the true extent of the burn. The skin was still ugly and raw, mottled with ripples from the extreme heat, and colored a tender pink. It was an appearance-altering scar that would mark the boy for life.

He parked the transport and took Mordivai to be officially registered as a member of the Education Corps. Gatten taught classes here and had in fact chosen this post. Here he was surrounded by the things he loved most: knowledge and students eager to learn. He spent his days studying the esoteric nature of the Force, translating holocrons within the library and teaching two classes a week. Mentoring students was something he deeply enjoyed. He had tutored a Sith Pureblood once, who had come to him seeking redemption in the light, and it had been one of the more satisfying accomplishments of his career. But never had he taken on a student like Mordivai, a reluctant learner and one who still had strong ties to his previous life.

He shuddered to think of how much damage had already been done to this impressionable child. To survive in the Sith Empire, and to someday graduate from the academy at Korriban alive, required ruthlessness and contempt for mercy. That they would break in children to this indoctrination so young both fascinated and horrified Gatten. He could not take on the Empire single handedly, but he could take in this boy and save him from a life of terror and hate.

He approached the desk and paused to smile at Mordivai. “Go ahead and look around a bit if you like. I’ll be just a moment.”

Mordivai didn’t hesitate. He began to wander around wide-eyed, examining the statues and running his hands over the smooth ancient stones.

“Welcome Master Gatten. I heard of your arrival. How is our newest student fairing?” The Bith behind the desk fixed Gatten with a patient, lidless stare.

“As well as can be expected.”

“What is his name?”

“Mordivai Quinn.”

“Yes, but how will you register him?”

“Use my name,” Gatten said. “Riel.”

The Bith paused at the keyboard. “Surely you plan to change his first name? It’s so...well, it’s very Sith sounding.”

“The boy has lost everything,” Gatten said. “I will not take away his first name too. It stays as is.”

“Very well then.”

Gatten gave Mordivai a few days to settle in, giving him free access to the library whenever he wished. Mordivai chose to spend most of the time in his sparsely furnished room, but eventually he ventured out, where Gatten found him poring over a datapad filled with adventure stories. At night Gatten walked by his room, frequently hearing quiet sobs coming from under the door. His heart ached at this, but he doubted that Mordivai would accept any comfort from him, so he left him to sort through his grief alone. During the day though, he strove to keep Mordivai busy.

After a few weeks of basic academic lessons, Gatten chose to introduce combat practice to their daily routine. The training room here was much smaller and less well equipped than the one at the Jedi Academy, but it had the basics that Gatten would need. He had no idea what Mordivai might already have been taught. So he gestured to the rack against the wall, letting him choose his own weapon from the practice blades there.

He was surprised when Mordivai spent a long time sorting through the weapons. There really weren’t that many options, after all. Some blades were weighted differently or sized for a bigger or smaller wielder. But Mordivai appeared determined to find something specific. Gatten was about to suggest that he simply take the one propped right in front of him when Mordivai suddenly grinned and pulled out a long staff, longer than he was tall.

“Mordivai. That’s not a good starter weapon. Can I help you choose something else?”

“I’ve used the staff before. Jaesa was teaching me.”

“Who is Jaesa?”

Mordivai’s shoulders slumped. “A Sith. My mother’s apprentice.”

“Here in the Republic, very few Jedi use the double-bladed saber.”

“Why can’t I be like them?”

Gatten was silent a moment, considering how to word his reply. “Jedi who master that weapon are often members of a select class. Their dedication to the light is impeccable and they are trusted with some of the Order’s most confidential and dangerous missions.” There is no way that Mordivai could ever hope to qualify for such a placement. In the Empire, such Sith were known as assassins. Gatten did not yet know what kind of Jedi Mordivai could be, or if he could even ever stay true to the Jedi Code at all. He would be pleased to see him take on a more peaceful calling such as healing. He reminded himself that such decisions were not his to make.

“At any rate,” he continued. “I cannot teach you that weapon. You must choose a single blade for now.”

Mordivai sulked and trudged back over the to the rack. He pulled out a small, light-weight training blade.

“Good, let’s begin.”

Mordivai’s skills were rusty at first, but within the hour Gatten saw immediate improvements as Mordivai fell into a more comfortable rhythm. It was obvious that someone had taught him the basics of melee combat. It was also apparent, however, that he had been taught a few Force maneuvers that were not sanctioned by the Jedi. There would be a lot of theory lessons for this pupil, Gatten realized. He ended the session by demonstrating to Mordivai how two friendly opponents bowed to conclude an honorable duel. It was progress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started this story about three years ago (!) and have been working on it off and on ever since. It sort of became an AU as Shadow of Revan and the new Fallen Empire stuff were released, since much of what I had written was no longer compatible with the new story. So just imagine the game universe as it was during the base game and Rise of Hutt Cartel, but approx. 20 years later. For the recognizable class story elements, just port those in their entirely ahead 20 years as well.


	3. Roots that Run Deep

_Four years later_

It was one of those afternoons that beckoned with promise, the carpet of sun-kissed grass just begging to be laid upon, where a dreamer could easily spend hours musing beneath the trees. Mordivai burst out of the library, letting the heavy door bang against the outer wall, and bounded down the steps. He’d aced Master Nilston’s exam on Tythonian history, he was sure of it, and was filled with the glow of a job well done. After three hours spent in the silence and solitude of the EduCorps library, it felt good to stretch his limbs again. He was due for a practice session with Master Gatten in an hour, but that gave him enough time for his own pursuits.

A friendly voice accosted him from behind. “Hey Mord!”

Mordivai turned and spotted Zayla, a human he recognized from one of his classes, running to catch up with him. 

He tried to sound casual. “Hey, where you headed?”

“Going to the ruins to scan some inscriptions.” She fell into step beside him, and briefly her elbow brushed against his arm. “Want to come keep me company?”

His mother had always told him that emotions energized and fueled a Sith’s power. At this moment, Mordivai could understand that very well. His legs felt jumpy and skittish, and his heart skipped in his chest. It was Master Gatten’s voice that he heard in his head, however, advising him to seek peace and center himself before his emotions got away from him.

His mouth opened before his brain could stop it. “Sure.”

He barely noticed where he was going as he followed her off the path to cut across a wide swath of grass, which became less maintained and more wild the farther they went. Eventually they reached a line of trees, and Zayla pushed aside a low hanging branch to reveal a faint trail leading into the woods.

“Have you ever been here? It’s really great. Tons of inscriptions, broken statues...this place is just full of history!” Zayla chatted away with enthusiasm and Mordivai made agreeable noises every now and then to keep her talking. When she stopped in front of a weed choked hill, Mordivai almost barreled into her.

“Here it is!”

He looked around but could see nothing but a mess of thorny brush and some jumbled rocks. Zayla parted some leaves and Mordivai realized that the rocks were all that was left of a steep stone staircase leading up the front of the hill. He looked up and saw a human face made of stone gazing out from the among the branches of a tree, the figure’s arm outstretched, though the hand was now missing. Zayla began climbing and Mordivai tried not to stare too openly at her backside as she ascended. He had to climb using both his hands and feet in order to find enough purchase to make it to the top.

He stood and looked around. Grass, weeds, and even trees had sprouted through the chipped stone flooring, the bigger trunks heaving aside the huge stone slabs and tilting them at crazy angles. Above, the trees stretched over the crumbled walls like a green canopy, dappling the walls with moving shadows of sun and shade. A cool breeze drifted through the ruin, carrying with it the scents of mulch, moss and flowers.

“This is amazing.” The stone statues reminded him of holos he’d seen of the ancient Sith tombs on Korriban. He had never been allowed him to explore them in person, but he had always hoped to someday, and had contented himself with listening to his mother’s stories of what was inside instead. The memory brought with it a pang of sadness. At least there were no vengeful spirits here in this Jedi ruin, waiting to terrorize the minds of the weak.

“Isn’t it? Check out the view from this spot.” Zayla scurried up a fallen tree trunk buried in the midst of one of the stone walls. She teetered at the top for a moment, then hopped onto what had once been a second story. Mordivai followed her, careful to watch where he put his feet along the rotting trunk. He jumped to the landing and saw Zayla beckoning to him from a break in the wall farther away.

“Look through here!”

She stepped aside and he peered through the gap. Outside the wall, the ground abruptly dropped away, opening up a view across the far valley. In the distance, a river wound through groves and fields, and far beyond the sun perched along the edge of a distant mountain range.

“Oh, wow.”

“I’ve always wanted to share this view with someone.” She turned and gave him a shy smile. “Thanks for coming Mordivai. Hey, what are you doing?”

Mordivai had squeezed through the gap and was balancing carefully along the edge, gripping the stone wall from the outside.

“Have you seen this? There’s a big ledge over here. Come on!” He held out his hand.

She leaned out and peered over his shoulder, causing her hair to fall forward and tickle his cheek. Then her hand slipped into his and squeezed tight. He held his arm steady while she climbed through. Just a quick shuffle along the wall, then a final hop, and he was there. He turned to grin at Zayla.

“See?”

She followed and then leapt onto the ledge, bumping against him as she caught her balance. He slung his arms around her and caught her, holding on for just a split second longer than was really necessary. The breath from her laugh so close to his ear caused a row of bumps to appear along his arms.

She settled next to him on the ledge, swinging her legs and beaming. “This is just beautiful!”

The view was breathtaking, but Mordivai found that he preferred to steal glances at Zayla instead. “It is beautiful.” He caught her eye and she looked away quickly, her cheeks turning pink.

For a while, the inscriptions that they had come to collect were forgotten. She was happy to chat with him, sharing stories of other ruins she had explored, and cautiously offering up how she had been commended for her skills in linguistics, careful to phrase her admission with humble caveats, Mordivai noticed. Why were the Jedi so quick to condemn the recognition of one’s accomplishments? Why should there be shame in celebrating strength? Mordivai expressed admiration and watched as her face lit up, her smile unfurling like a new blossom. She grew subdued and wistful however upon admitting to having dreams of joining the ExplorCorps in order to travel the galaxy.

“I hope you get to do that someday, Zayla.”

“Are you interested in history, Mordivai?”

Mordivai muttered a vague affirmation, but his mind was drifting back to thoughts of Korriban again. When he had been little, he had dreamed of being a treasure hunter like his mother’s friend Vette, not for the glory and riches though, but for the _secrets._ Sith lore was filled with so much forgotten knowledge, knowledge that the Jedi would most certainly forbid him to study. It was dangerous, Master Gatten said, and even destructive enough to make people go mad. But Master Gatten had also said that knowledge was a Jedi’s best weapon, so why would he deny him one of his most powerful tools? Mordivai suspected that the real reason was that the Jedi were afraid.

There was a lull in the conversation. Mordivai had not offered anything about himself, and a change in topics could open up the expectation that it would be his turn to share. He was reluctant to talk about his history to other Jedi. He hated their pity. Many of the Masters saw him as something to be “fixed”, the students here at the Service Corps were frequently distant and cautious, and the few initiates he had met came across as cold and unfeeling. He did not want to grow up and be like them, no more emotional than a droid. Yet he did like the Jedi talk about defending the powerless. Sith were never regaled as heroes. They inspired fear, not admiration. Yet the Jedi were held up as exemplars, celebrated and showered with honors and thanks.

“The sun is starting to set. I guess you should get to scanning your inscriptions, huh?”

“Oh!” Zayla leapt to her feet. “We need to get back before dark.”

They returned back through the hole in the wall and Zayla ran ahead, calling over her shoulder, “The inscriptions are over here. I’m going to see if I can translate them back at the library.”

Mordivai followed and turned a corner to find Zayla kneeling in front of one of the broken walls. She was already running the scanner’s light up and down over a long inscription so damaged by time that it was a wonder that anyone could make out the letters at all. She leaned forward and studied it, frowning and biting her lip.

“I can read some of it, but gosh, this is going to be a tricky one.”

She casually pushed her blonde hair back over her shoulder and Mordivai watched as it slowly slid back into place across the side of her face again. She flipped it back absentmindedly. He had the thought of offering to gather it up and hold it out of her face for her, but that felt like too obvious a ploy to touch her. He sighed and abandoned the idea.

“Maybe you should have brought some homework with you or something. So you’re not bored waiting around for me.”

“No, I’m not bored!” Mordivai said quickly. “That’s not it. I just…” He paused. Zayla had never been unkind to him and he felt himself longing for a confidant. “...for a moment I was thinking of home.”

Zayla sat back on her haunches and peered up at him. Her voice was hushed and her eyes sympathetic. “You mean Korriban?”

“Korriban, yes, and Kaas City too. I had family in both places.”

Zayla got to her feet and took a step towards him. “Your parents were Sith?”

“Is,” Mordivai corrected. “My mother is a Sith.”

“Oh.” Zayla licked her lips. “So it really is true.”

“What’s true?”

“I mean, I heard that, you know...about how you survived an Imperial shipwreck and that Master Gatten found you and brought you to Tython because you were Force-sensitive.”

Mordivai nodded, conscious of the flutters of nerves that were making the rounds inside his stomach. “Is there anything else that you heard?”

“I heard that the reason you are here instead of at the Jedi Academy is because you have too much of the dark side in you to let you train with the others.”

“I see.” It always came down to this. Having a Pureblood mother would have been a source of pride if he had grown up in the Empire. But here, it was viewed as a taint, something dangerous and unwanted, something that needed to be cured. What did they know about his family? About what it meant to be Sith?

Mordivai took a step closer, studying Zayla’s face. “Do you think I have the dark side in me?”

Zayla giggled and shook her head. “I think you’re nice.”

She reached up and gently pushed her fingers through his hair, then slid her hand down to cup his burned cheek.

“That’s how you got your scars then. In the shipwreck?”

He nodded. “I can’t...I can’t feel you though, when you touch me. That side of my face is numb.”

“That’s too bad.”

“I can feel this though.” He took her hand and lifted it from his scarred cheek, placing it against the opposite side of his face. Zayla traced his cheekbone with the pad of her thumb and her eyes, so deep and brown, met his.

Mordivai swallowed, and when he spoke his voice sounded strained. “Being here alone with me might not be the best idea.”

“They are not as strict here in the Service Corps as they are at the Academy.”

“So, does that mean that I can kiss you?”

He drifted closer, and their noses bumped. She released a breathy laugh and met him the rest of the way, and he closed his lips over hers. Oh stars, a delicious heat was pouring into his loins, making Mordivai light-headed and giddy. Through the Force, he felt Zayla’s own desire sparking to life in answer to his, and here, surrounded by the untamed forest, Mordivai felt united with the life around him. He was alive.

Zayla pulled away suddenly and her eyes snapped open.

“We’re not alone, Mord. Can you feel it?”

“An animal, perhaps.”

“It’s a big animal then.”

Mordivai stepped back and drew his vibroblade. It hummed to life in his hand, sounding unusually loud now in the quiet of the forest.

“We need to get out of here. I don’t feel right about this.” Zayla backed away and slipped through a break in one of the crumbling walls, heading for the hillside where they had first arrived. Mordivai turned slowly, reaching out with his senses, trying to pinpoint the source of the disturbance. He felt something - a flicker - and moved in the opposite direction, hurrying to catch up with Zayla.

She had reached the broken stone steps and was carefully picking her way down. Mordivai was surprised to notice how much the light had faded in the time since they’d been talking. The sun had dipped below the horizon and the stairs before him were shadowy and treacherous. The breeze had picked up, tossing the gnarled arms of the trees and chilling the air. Mordivai slowed down to watch his footing.

There was a rustle to his right and a large, dark shape streaked by in front of him. A scream tore through the air, a sound that was too feral to be human. It was followed by another cry, this one only too familiar, and there was such a note of terror in it that the sound ripped down Mordivai’s spine, striking fear into his heart.

“Zayla!”

He bounded down the stairs, brandishing his vibrosword. Where was Zayla? Oh stars, was she underneath that creature? Mordivai let out a yell, throwing all of his control of the Force into it, as he had seen his mother do, surprising even himself when he heard his own voice echoing back at him from the distant valley. The creature jerked and froze, gripping the ground with claws the size of butcher’s knives, turning its head and letting out an angry hiss. In the faint light, its eyes flashed green, like two glowing lights in the dark, and Mordivai saw a set of large, curved fangs protruding from its jaws.

_Manka cat,_ he realized. _Center yourself. Focus. Don’t panic._

He swung his blade at it, but his aim was wild and shaky, and it only nicked the cat’s ear. He leapt forward and jabbed hard in the direction of the creature’s belly, and this time he scored a hit, although only a grazing one. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Zayla crawling away, or trying to anyway. _Oh damn, oh damn, what is that hanging off of her?_ The ground was stained dark with blood, and too much of it. Mordivai felt a surge of nausea in his gut.

Competing voices warred in his head. Master Gatten’s lessons came first, telling him to reach inward, to touch the Force and harness it, to keep his legs steady and his eyes alert. But another voice was goading him to anger, urging him to tap into his fear and indignation and throw it back at the beast with the double the intensity.

The cat drew back on its haunches and sprung into the air, aiming a swipe of one of its huge paws at Mordivai’s head. The Force moved through Mordivai, feeding him with power, and he leapt out of the cat’s reach, landing on a nearby boulder. The cat growled and then just as suddenly, it turned away from him and threw itself instead towards Zayla.

She kicked furiously at the cat’s huge head, flailing and yelling, and managed to get a few impressive hits in, her boot meeting the cat’s face with a thud. Mordivai jumped into the air, putting all the might of his fall into the blow, and drove his vibroblade deep into the cat’s back. It let out a horrific yowl, but when Mordivai yanked the blade free, the cat spun on him, its viciousness increased, and for a moment, all Mordivai saw was a huge set of teeth closing in on his face. He threw up his blade, blocking the attack, but just barely. He felt the teeth rip into his scalp, skidding against bone. _That attack was meant for my jugular._ He stumbled and was driven to his knees. The beast was on him again, knocking him back onto the ground, its huge body crushing him and forcing the air from his lungs. Mordivai saw spots spinning in the corners of his vision.

_I will not die here to a Manka cat._ He pulled into himself, gathering power, and then threw it outward with everything he had. The cat flew backwards into the air, landing awkwardly on its back. Mordivai sprung to his feet and lunged at the cat, thrashing his blade wildly, hacking at the cat’s body with indiscriminate blows. The Force lent him strength that he otherwise might not have had, adding a ferocity to his strikes.

“Die!” Mordivai screamed.

His blade lodged into the cat’s rib cage, and Mordivai’s hand slipped as he tried to yank it out. He kept screaming, both power and panic surging through him, and threw out his hands towards the cat. There was a flash and a sizzle, and something, a spark like a flame but brighter and whiter, streaked from his fingertips. The cat’s body jerked, its fur scorched by threads of pure Force power. Mordivai stared at it, his voice going hoarse, fear and shame and confusion clashing within him.

He looked down at his hands which tingled and stung. His fingers were slick with blood.

_Zayla._

He pushed aside his feelings and ran to her side. There was so much blood, oh stars, so much. She was covered in it, her clothes saturated, her arms and face nearly unrecognizable. He gathered her in his arms, and lurched to his feet. He stumbled down the forest trail, using the Force to guide him through the darkness. Still, he fell twice, each time sobbing apologies to Zayla, hoping he hadn’t increased the severity of her injuries. At last he broke out into the open.

“Somebody help!” he yelled. There were figures running towards him, silhouettes in the lamplight from the buildings beyond. Hands swarmed over him, lifting Zayla from his arms. Someone shined a light in his face.

“Get to the med center!”

He was half pushed, half carried the rest of the way there, where he was quickly led away from Zayla and towards a cot.

“Is she alright? Is she going to be ok?” No one was answering him.

Voices spoke soothingly , hands gently reclining him onto the cot, a Jedi standing over him, her face serene, a faint glow pulsing from her hands.

“Peace, youngling,” she said. And Mordivai knew no more.

00o00

Mordivai stood with his hands clasped before him, his head bowed, waiting for Master Gatten to acknowledge him.

“Zayla is severely injured, Mordivai,” Master Gatten said, his voice grave and slow. “The Jedi healers worked on her through the night, and she is in a Kolto tank now, where she will probably stay for weeks.”

Mordivai looked up. Master Gatten had his fingers steepled on his desk and his eyes fixed hard on Mordivai’s face. They bored into him with such intensity that Mordivai felt stripped bare, his heart and soul laid out like a map, and he felt a moment of fear, wondering how much Gatten knew. Had he seen the singe marks on the creature’s fur? How much did he suspect? The battle was a blur now in his memory, but Mordivai knew that it was not the Light side that had been the primary fuel of his power that day. Confusion and shame filled him. He had never been so frightened as he was when he saw that Manka cat tearing into Zayla like she was nothing but a hunk of meat. Fear and anger had ruled his actions, true, but it had also earned him the victory.

“I saw the cat and the site of the battle,” Master Gatten continued. “It was a brutal kill.”

Mordivai bristled. He was still reeling from the attack, worried about Zayla, and amazed that he had stood against a Manka cat at all.

He balled his hands into fists. “I saved her life!”

Master Gatten got to his feet, his voice a growl. “No! You put her life in jeopardy! You think you are some hero? Both of you never should have been out there after dusk. All students have been warned of this. And then there is the matter of what you were doing out there alone with her in the first place.”

Mordivai felt his cheeks heating up, and he broke away from meeting Master Gatten’s gaze to stare at the floor.

“Your actions put both yourself and another student in danger. This is what we mean when we speak of the hazards of unchecked desires, of hedonism, and of selfishness. This,” Gatten threw out his hand for emphasis, “is that we mean.”

“I’m sorry, Master.”

“I’m terribly sorry that another student had to suffer for you to learn this lesson.” He sat back down, adjusting his robe and sighing. When he spoke again, his voice had resumed its usual soft-spoken tone.

“You did show bravery last night, Mordivai. You were forced to act quickly in an unpredictable situation, and in the heat of the moment you reached inside yourself for strength. I know what you found there. Your roots in the dark side go deep, in your family, in your upbringing. I understand and I am not angry with you about that part of last night’s events.”

“I used it for good.” Mordivai knew his voice sounded pleading, but he didn’t care. “Does the dark side always have to be evil?”

“If Zayla had grown up in the Empire, she would have been sent to Korriban due to her Force sensitivity. But she cannot manipulate the Force like you can, and she is a scholar not a warrior. She would have been slaughtered, most likely by another student.” Gatten paused. “By someone like you.”

“No,” Mordivai protested. “I would never...that’s-”

“Wouldn’t you? You would if you wanted to live.” Gatten stood up again and walked around to the front of his desk. “The dark side, taken to its logical conclusion, is all about valuing prowess over weakness, pitting power against power. Mordivai,” Gatten leaned forward, and his yellow eyes again caught Mordivai’s. “Do you want to be a Jedi?”

Mordivai swallowed, searching to find his voice. “Yes.”

“Then you must seek the light. It will be your shield and your fountain of strength. Deliberation, rationality, compassion, patience. These are the virtues you must espouse.” Gatten crossed his arms, studying Mordivai with a look that was more curious now than reprimanding. “I may have made a mistake bringing you here instead of to the Academy.” He turned away. “Pack your things.”

“What?”

“Be ready to leave tomorrow morning.”

Mordivai opened his mouth to say more, but decided better of it. “Yes, Master.”

He left Master Gatten’s office and shuffled through the halls in a daze. He paused when he neared the med center. He wandered in, nodding politely to the attendant on duty.

“I would like to see Zayla.”

“Brought in last night?” The Mirialan sitting at the desk typed into her console and turned back to face him again. “She’s in bad shape. She’s only been in the tank for a few hours, but you can see her. She’s in tank four.”

“Thank you.”

Mordivai stepped into the Kolto tank room. The air hummed around him, and the entire room swam in flickering blue light, giving the illusion of walking into a giant aquarium. He found tank four before he had even checked the number.

Zayla was there, her long blonde hair floating around her head like a halo. The part of her face was not hidden by the mask was covered instead with bandages. Mordivai looked over the rest of her, and his stomach lurched. Zayla’s right arm was missing at the elbow, the stump wrapped tightly in gauze. Everywhere her skin was riddled with stitches, and there was a particularly large gash along her right thigh.

“By the Force, I’m so sorry,” Mordivai whispered to her. Would he ever see her again to tell her in person? He could see his own face reflected in the glass, the ugly shaved patch on his head where the bandage soaked in Kolto worked to heal the wound left by the Manka cat’s fangs, but that was nothing compared to what Zayla had suffered. _My fault,_ he thought. _If I had declined to go with her, if I had not kept her engaged in such a long conversation, if I had not kissed her…_

He turned away, unable to look at her any longer, and went back to his room to pack his few belongings.


	4. The Lure of the Dark

_

Three years later.

_

Mordivai flourished at the Jedi Academy, and Gatten’s only regret was that he hadn’t brought the boy here earlier. _Not a boy any longer,_ Gatten reminded himself. Mordivai was nineteen now, a young man. He had sprouted up in height, but his weight had never caught up with him. He was wiry and painfully thin, the pale shadow of his childhood freckles still faintly visible through his ruddy complexion. His boyish appearance had already caused more than one opponent to underestimate him, and Gatten had encouraged Mordivai to use this to his advantage.

Mordivai had also thrived under the tutelage of Master Praven, a former Sith lord who had defected to the Republic. Gatten had set up their mentorship and knew immediately that it had been an inspired choice. Gatten still continued to guide Mordivai in his understanding and utilization of the Force, while Praven took over in combat instruction. In Praven, Mordivai had found a confidant and someone he could relate to. They became a fixture around the Academy; the Pureblood Jedi and his half-Pureblood protege, living proof to the other initiates that anyone, even a Sith, had the power conquer the dark that lurked within. Gatten suspected that when the time came, Praven would take Mordivai as his Padawan.

It had been a mistake to isolate Mordivai on the EduCorps campus, away from other students of his skill level. Gatten could see that now. In attempting to protect the initiates from possible Sith influence, Gatten had given Mordivai a lonely existence, and one that had only furthered his sense of being the “other.” Once around other Jedi hopefuls and Padawans however, Mordivai had been eager to fit in and embrace Jedi ways. He still questioned everything he was taught, often making thoughtful comparisons between the Jedi and Sith codes, but Gatten had come to see these questions as signs of an inquisitive mind and not a concern. It was better for Mordivai to willingly become a Jedi after thoughtful deliberation, than for him to be convinced through purposeful lecturing.

Mordivai’s skill in the practice arena grew, quickly surpassing many of his peers. He demonstrated agility with a lightsaber and a head for tactics. He also could have been a keen scholar. Selfishly, Gatten would have preferred to have seen him use his talents to further intellectual pursuits, but either way, Gatten was confident that Mordivai would make an exceptional Jedi.

The time to initiate him into the Order had come at last. He was older than most students facing their Initiate Trials, and so Gatten had devised a test that was more suited to Mordivai’s age and skill level, a trial that in some ways mimicked the more challenging Jedi Trials.

“Do you think I made a mistake,” Gatten wondered aloud, “sending him to Kaleth as part of his Trial?” The Jedi Academy bustled around them as Gatten strolled with Praven through the halls.

“Don’t second guess yourself,” Praven said. He paused to nod politely to a Jedi colleague passing by before continuing. “He needs to be exposed to temptation if he is to learn the boundaries of his own strength.”

That morning, Mordivai had left with a small survival pack, his newly forged lightsaber, and a map to the ancient Jedi sanctuary. In the distant past, the first battle between light and dark had been fought in Kaleth, and even now, tens of thousands of years hence, dark side power still lingered in the unmapped pockets of the ruin. These days, since its discovery only twenty years ago, it had become a hotspot for Jedi historians, geologists, and biologists, anyone eager to uncover the past. The place was no tourist attraction however. It was filled with hazards both mundane and supernatural, from ancient guardian droids still programmed to defend their turf to Force ghosts of dubious intent.

“He is curious…and I sent him in there, knowing he’d be tempted.”

“Every Jedi must confront his weakness if he is to conquer it. His enemies will not coddle his weaknesses and neither can we.”

Praven had always been the counterweight to Gatten’s teachings. Whereas Gatten sought to introduce troublesome concepts with care, Praven was a proponent of thrusting his student into challenging situations in order to force his hand and “foster growth”, as he so often put it.

“You say Jedi words, but sometimes you still sound like a Sith.” Gatten’s tone was affectionate. They’d had this conversation so many times.

“I know only too well the dangers he will face. Hiding him from the truth only does him a disservice.”

Gatten sighed. “I only want him to succeed.”

“As do I. But you cannot protect him from himself, Gatten.”

They reached the wide entry doors and stepped out into the sunlight. Gatten paused at a railing, looking out the pathway that Mordivai had followed into the forest that morning.

“You are right, of course.”

“He will find his place in the world, wherever it may be. The Force will guide him,” Praven said.

00o00

Mordivai sheathed his new lightsaber and stepped past the smoking wreckage of two ancient demolition droids. Ahead of him was a crumbling stone arch which led into a quiet, overgrown glade. Why the droids had been tasked with guarding this glade was anyone’s guess, but in the center was natural spring pool teeming with some unfamiliar bioluminescent lifeform. A cohort of xenobiologists had discovered this spot recently and were interested in getting water samples for study. When they had been unable to get past the droids, they had enlisted the Jedi Order’s help, and thus the final stage of Mordivai’s trial was born. He suspected that there was more to this trial than a test of combat and some community service, however.

It had taken him all day to reach this spot up in the hills of Kaleth, and it would take him another day to return. He had come prepared to spend the night, and now that dusk was here, he decided it would be best if he started looking for a suitable spot to bed down. He didn’t want to be wandering through the ruins of Kaleth in the dark.

He filled three small vials with the glowing water and tucked them away in his bag. The sun was dropping behind the mountains at a swift pace, creating shadows that creeped like fingers across the ground. Mordivai left through the archway and walked to an overlook with a wide view of most of the ruins. The complex was vast, but even more of it lay hidden among winding subterranean corridors and cave networks. Mordivai wanted to find a spot that was sheltered from the sky and relatively enclosed. He scanned the ruins, finally deciding to visit an area nearby that looked to be in acceptable condition and even had a few unbroken ceilings.

By the time he reached the area, it was already dark enough that he needed to pull out a glowrod. He found a grassy expanse within four walls, containing a small overhang and fairly even ground. Once he ducked under the overhang, he realized that there was actually a narrow open doorway here as well, but the space beyond it was shrouded in darkness and there was no telling how far back it extended. It appeared to lead straight into the side of a hill.

Mordivai stepped through the doorway and held out the glowrod. Inside was a semicircular room that ended with another doorway in the far wall. This one was even blacker than the first, and contained a set of stairs leading down. The ground here was mostly hard-packed earth, pebbled and pock-marked and definitely not comfortable for sleeping. Mordivai went back outside and laid out his bed roll on a spot of thin grass just under the edge of the overhang.

He ate a quick meal and then, having nothing better to do, settled down for the night. The night was blacker and deeper beyond the ring of light provided by the glowrod, and not liking the sight disadvantage that put him at, Mordivai chose to extinguish it. He was plunged into momentary darkness but eventually his eyes adjusted. He lay there, listening to the sounds of night insects, and quickly fell into an exhausted sleep.

He was jerked awake by something sudden and intrusive, like a lingering echo of sound, yet he couldn’t place what exactly had awoken him. From just beyond his overhang, the red moon Bogan blotted the sky like a blood stain, casting the landscape into a harsh contrast of light and shadow. Mordivai eased himself back down onto his bedroll and tried to get comfortable again.

A faint breeze skittered across the ground, tickling Mordivai’s face, and he blinked awake again, confused, since the air felt like it was coming from the open doorway in the hillside. He stared at door’s black rectangle, unease passing through him. It was possible that some creature was using that room as a den, and Mordivai did not want to be sleeping on some nocturnal predator’s doorstep. Reluctantly, he rose and bundled up his things. Walking around Kaleth in the dark was exactly the scenario he’d intended to avoid, but perhaps there was a safer, if less sheltered place, somewhere else.

Beyond the crumbled walls of his enclosure he was met by a chill wind that tugged at his robes. He stopped, dismayed. The area here was a maze of broken walls, pillars, and tumbled boulders, looking more like a graveyard of giant, chipped headstones than the picturesque ruin that he remembered from the day before. He hesitated, uncertainty creating circles of doubt in his head, and at last he decided that venturing into the unexplored darkness was not wise. He turned, mustering a bit of extra courage - he was a Jedi for goodness sake! - and stepped into the dark room underneath the overhang.

He reached out with all his senses, searching for signs of life. He felt nothing, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Had he really considered abandoning his chosen sleeping place all because a light breeze had spooked him? It seemed silly now.

His bedroll was almost laid out again when the breeze kicked up once more, stronger this time, swirling in little eddies around his feet and hands. He straightened, eyeing the doorway and slowly reaching for the lightsaber at his belt. Perhaps, he decided, there was simply a tunnel here, traversing the length of the hill and emerging out the other side. It was a logical explanation. He realized that he could continue to tell himself likely and reasonable stories all night, but the doubt would remain for as long as he remained ignorant. Knowledge is a powerful weapon.

He pulled out the glowrod and entered the room, forcing his legs to stride towards the far doorway. The stairway beyond it spiraled downward and out of sight, and yes, there was definitely a breeze wafting up from here, tinged with damp, musty smells. Mordivai followed it to the bottom and stepped into a high ceilinged room. He raised the glowrod and gasped aloud.

A network of deteriorating metal catwalks extended across the floor, spanning over a second, even deeper room beneath, which was lined with shelves of ancient databanks, long since gone lightless and silent. Mordivai pressed his foot against the floor of the nearest catwalk and it groaned and swayed. He pulled back, surveying the vast room, noticing this time that there was another room further in, on the other side of the catwalk. From there, Mordivai was startled to see some faint lights blinking like miniature stars, flashing in an uneven rhythmn and nearly covered the the wall.

Mordivai longed to run his fingers over such ancient databanks, wanting to feel their thrum beneath his hand. Could any of them still be accessed? He recalled Master Gatten explaining that many areas of Kaleth were still unexplored, and Mordivai wondered what new secrets possibly lay hidden here, what history the ancient Jedi order had sought to preserve.

He felt the breeze again, lifting the hem of his robe, whispering with chill fingers along his legs. The lights beckoned from ahead, creating flickering patterns, almost as if transmitting a meaningful code. Something plucked at the edges of his mind, like a memory long forgotten, and Mordivai felt a familiar, yet painful yearning come over him. _Claim what is rightfully yours,_ an unspoken voice said into his mind, _your legacy, your history, your blood. Take it and soar._

There was power in this place. Darkness caressed him, curling around him like tendrils of smoke, and Mordivai felt faintly dizzy. He reached out. The lights were brighter, almost close enough to touch, warming the air, pulsing as if alive. The breeze ruffled his hair, danced along his scalp like the fingers of a lover, and he was lifted, no pushed, forward. His palms tingled with anticipation. _Would the ancient metal still be warm?_

The dizziness became a swoon, and Mordivai felt the floor tilting. He stumbled, the wall of databanks crashing into his outstretched hands. The lights blinked out.

Mordivai jerked back, startled and horrified. He had crossed the rickety catwalk without even being aware of it and had been swallowed into the dark room beyond. He realized he’d blundered into the very thing he’d been warned of. The dark side was here, lingering still, a testament to its strength. Mordivai spun around, disturbed to see that his glowrod lay abandoned on the floor on the other side of the room, only a few paces away from the staircase where he’d first entered.

He spoke into the darkness.

“I am a defender of the light. There is no passion, there is serenity.” He repeated the words, louder, as he took careful steps across the catwalk once more. It shook and groaned.

_I didn’t succumb. I will leave this place. It has not claimed me._

He was close, only a few paces now. He began to breathe easier. Pale light eased down the staircase; the white moon Ashla guiding his way.

A metal shriek pierced the air and the catwalk buckled under Mordivai’s feet. With a scream that echoed obscenely loud in the quiet night, the catwalk broke free of its moorings and dropped away. The darkness flew up to devour him.

Mordivai hit the ground hard, all the air driven out of his lungs. Above, the catwalk swung unevenly in the air. It let out another agonized groan and snapped off its final hinge. Mordivai rolled aside as it flew towards his face, barely missing being squashed as it slammed into the dust, kicking up a cloud of decay.

Mordivai sat up. His breathing was loud in the silence. The urge to put this place far behind him was overwhelming. Out. Where was the way out now?

Mordivai walked slowly across the room, reaching out with the Force, trying to make sense of the layout of this place. Somewhere there was a way that lead back out to the moonlit night, back to fresh air and growing things.

He entered a hallway with a low ceiling. The tight walls left no breathing room and cobwebs swiped against his face. His hand struck emptiness along one wall.

A beam of red light blinded him and a mechanical voice began to mutter. Mordivai backed away, drawing his lightsaber, just as a massive droid rumbled out of an alcove, two arms like blasters aimed straight at him. It fired, and the bursts of light from its guns left glowing spots across Mordivai’s vision. He blocked the bolts in a spray of sparks and thrust the end of his lightsaber deep into the droids wiry innards. Countless times he stabbed it, until it finally grumbled into silence.

Mordivai leaned back against a wall. He took a long moment to catch his breath. Then he continued on.

He’d entered a subterranean maze, or if not a maze in truth, it sure felt like one. He passed doorways, crissed-crossed hallways, entered rooms. All the while, he had the terrible sensation that he was only venturing further into the bowels of the hillside, moving farther away from freedom.

Panic was eating away at the edges of his mind when he saw a light up ahead. He bolted into a run, only wanting to feel the moonlight on his face. The walls fell open and Mordivai entered a room with a domed ceiling. Indeed, it was moonlight that fell from an opening far above, illuminating a statue in the center of the room. The statue was a faceless, robed figure. If it had once had features, they had long since been erased by the rain coming through the skylight above. Mordivai stepped up onto the dais where the statue rested, pressing his chin against the clammy stone and staring up at his only exit.

He saw no way out.

Was it raining? There was a dampness in the air, a delicate blanket of dew that covered the statue with traces of green moss. Mordivai turned to survey the room and saw that a mist was creeping across the floor. Had that been there when he had entered? It was growing thicker, almost obscuring the tessellated stones. Mordivai held his blade out before him. The mist boiled around his ankles, obscuring his feet. The green light from Mordivai’s lightsaber barely pierced the darkness.

A boot scraped on gravel and a figure stepped into the room.

Hair gone stark white, a crisp uniform, that sharp, confident step.

“Father?”

Admiral Quinn stopped a few paces away.

“Mordivai, my son,” he said quietly. His voice was as real as Mordivai remembered it. Had something happened to him? Was he dead? A lump twisted in Mordivai’s throat.

“There’s something I want to tell you.”

He spoke gently, like a parent would instruct a young child, and Mordivai wondered if this was a forgotten memory or a vision of things to come.

“Be kind,” he said, his words deliberate and slow, “to the common citizens of the Empire. You will be Sith, and far above them in station. But they live and die at your whim, and have little recourse against being wronged.”

“I am a Jedi now, father,” Mordivai whispered, wanting to speak, yet afraid just the same that his words might actually be heard.

His father stared at him, his face stern. Mordivai felt fear creeping into his heart. The breeze kicked up then, roiling about Admiral Quinn’s feet. Mordivai watched as his father slowly turned and walked away.

As soon as he disappeared around the edge of the doorway there was a chilling laugh and the familiar buzz of a lightsaber being drawn. Mordivai lunged forward, fearing for his father’s safety, even as he also knew that was surely impossible.

The doorway darkened and a Sith entered. He was tall and barrel chested, with a smooth, faceless mask and a suit of armor adorned with spikes.

“Come meet your match,” the Sith rumbled, his voice like the rasp of the ancient earth.

The blade of the Sith’s lightsaber was a blur moving towards Mordivai’s head. He threw up his own blade and jolted in surprise when it clashed in a way that was very real against the Sith’s. Mordivai quick-stepped around the room, blocking and slashing, suddenly fearing for his life. The Sith was nearly twice his size and Mordivai’s arms rattled with the force of their traded blows.

Then his lightsaber met empty air and Mordivai almost lost his balance. The Sith fell to the floor in a shadowy heap, without even making a sound. The shape hunched over and then held out his hand in a gesture of surrender. Mordivai watched, mesmerized, as the Sith removed his mask.

Master Gatten’s face looked back at him.

“How far you have fallen, Padawan.” The pain and disappointment in his voice was unbearable.

“No! You are wrong!” Mordivai said.

“I have nothing…” The shape was dwindling now as Master Gatten folded into himself, collapsing like a deck of cards. “...left to give.”

He faded into the floor and Mordivai dropped to his knees.

“No, please, no.” His head fell into his hands.

He was startled to feel cold stone against his cheek. He blinked and saw the floor at a tilt against his face, clear of mist now. The base of the statue was nearby and on it Mordivai could read ancient writing, whole and unmarred.

_Balance in all things._

He sat up slowly. Far above, the sun cast rays of yellow light into the room. For the first time, Mordivai noticed that the statue’s arms were outstretched, its palms facing upwards as if creating a perch for something to land. One hand was bathed in the sunlight coming from the ceiling, while the other still remained in shadow. He wondered if the same effect was present with the two moons at night. How different things might have been if this order of ancient Force users had never suffered the dramatic schism between light and dark.

On the other side of the statue, he saw an open doorway and a steep stone stairway leading upwards. He could have sworn that wall had been solid rock the night before. How could he have missed the doorway? Mordivai jumped to his feet and ran towards it.

Within moments he found himself outside, sucking in the sweet, green air and reveling in the feel of the sunlight against his skin. He hurried through the ruins, dodging around boulders and skipping over fallen debris until at last his feet hit the familiar trail leading back to the Academy. He did not slow his pace until he arrived hours later.

00o00

“Master Praven?”

Mordivai waited respectfully in the doorway. Praven was kneeling on the rug, eyes closed, deep in meditation. For a moment, Mordivai thought that he would not rouse, but then he raised his head and smiled.

“Come in, Padawan.”

Mordivai went and knelt in front of Praven. He had felt a thrill of delight at Praven calling him his Padawan, and he was proud to now call himself a Jedi. He took his time to arrange himself comfortably while he thought of how to best address his concerns.

“What troubles you?”

“Master, I was wondering if I could ask you about Korriban.”

As he expected, Praven looked surprised, but Mordivai saw only curiosity in his face and not reprimand.

“What do you want to know?”

“The Sith have trials of their own...but different from ours here. What are they like?”

Praven grew serious, his eyebrow ridges folding together. His red skin and stern face, marked with the bony striations common to his race, looked incongruent against the soft brown of his Jedi robes. For many of the students here, Praven was their first real glimpse of what the enemy looked like. To Mordivai though, Praven reminded him of his mother.

“For the Jedi, the trials are about triumphing over oneself. For the Sith, they are about triumphing over others.”

Mordivai thought about the trouble he had had in Kaleth. He had been lured deep into a zone steeped in dark side power, but he had gotten free, hadn’t he? He had chosen to pursue the light.

“I saw some disturbing things while I was in Kaleth,” he said at last. “Visions. Was I shown the future?”

“Most visions are not to be taken literally.” 

“But I don’t understand what they meant.”

“Visions rarely explain themselves. In time, their meaning often comes clear. And,” Praven added, giving Mordivai a careful look, “the dark side cannot be trusted.”

Mordivai felt a twinge of alarm at Praven’s mention of the dark side. Did Praven suspect that he had touched the dark side in Kaleth? Mordivai had already been told that he had passed the trials, but he feared he would not have if the truth were known. He was ashamed of how easily he had succumbed to the promise of dark side knowledge, and guilt had been eating away at him that he might not deserve to be a Jedi after all.

“Master, I felt the dark side in Kaleth. I left that place, but...I got lost for a time.”

Praven nodded. “Every Jedi is tempted in his lifetime, perhaps even many times. Your strength is measured not in avoiding temptation, but in conquering it. Which you did in Kaleth. You are a Jedi, Mordivai. Do not doubt our judgement in naming you one.”

Mordivai nodded, feeling relieved. “Thank you, Master. I...I was worried.”

Praven’s smile was compassionate, like a father toward a son. “I know.”

“I have one more question about Korriban.”

“Ask,” Praven said.

“They say that Korriban is lawless and corrupt. But you went there and you are not like that.”

Praven nodded. “Not all Sith lack honor. What binds the Sith together is their belief that passion is strength. I will tell you a secret.” Praven leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with something that might have even been mischief. “I embrace the light, and I am fervent in my convictions. You could say...even passionate...about them.” He sat back, watching Mordivai’s reaction, assessing him, Mordivai guessed, to see if he understood. Praven folded his hands in his lap, looking once more the image of the disciplined Jedi. “The difference is that I know now how to temper my ardor with wisdom.”

Mordivai was quiet. His mother had been teaching him to embrace his passions, to seek them as a source of power. Yet it was his father who had often tried to rein him in, reminding him to value rational thinking over snap judgements. Praven’s words made sense, and Mordivai felt a peace settle over him, like the world falling into place. Would his father be ashamed of him as a Jedi? _I’ve become more like you than you know, father._

“You have that passion in you, Mordivai, the passion of our race. You can be a Jedi and not lose who you are,” Praven said.

“I won’t let it rule me.”

“Exactly.” Praven nodded and smiled.


	5. Lightning Never Strikes Twice

As Mordivai boarded the passenger ship Esseles his nerves were strung taut with both excitement and apprehension. He was being called to participate in his first real mission as a Jedi, and was going to Coruscant to receive instructions from General Var Suthra of the Republic army. But the feel of the huge ship humming gently beneath him, the long hallways, the lounges packed with passengers, it all brought back memories that he would rather have left behind. He had not ridden on such a large ship since the day of the crash seven years ago.

“Peace Mordivai,” Master Gatten said from beside him, his voice gentle and calm. “Stay in the moment.”

Praven had sensed his unease as well and gave Mordivai a reassuring nod.

Mordivai paused to take a few slow breaths, feeling the Force glowing warm around him, and concentrated on the sights and sounds of the here and now. They entered a lounge filled with lively chatter, where children chased each other between the chairs of their parents and cheerful music played through a sound system in the ceiling. Eyes followed them as they passed, and occasionally they got nods and smiles. Mordivai was proud to be here with his lightsaber on his hip, knowing that these people looked to him for hope and protection. His nerves were quickly forgotten.

They ordered a casual lunch and entered into a lively discussion on the nature of the unifying Force. Gatten felt that the concept was a path leading to the dark side, but Praven did not agree. Mordivai was getting ready to side with Praven when the ship jerked and came to a stop.

“What’s going on?” Mordivai could not hide the nervousness in his voice.

Praven sat back in his chair and began to scan the room. “Could be nothing.”

Their conversation resumed, but Mordivai could not get rid of the nagging feeling that something bad was going to happen. _The ship isn’t going to crash,_ he told himself. What were the chances of that?

A short while later they were interrupted by a crew member, who edged up to their table looking apologetic.

“I’m so sorry to bother you, but the Captain requests that one of you come see him on the bridge. We have a...situation.”

“What kind of situation?” Gatten asked.

The man’s eyes darted briefly around the room before settling on Gatten once again. “We have been contacted by an Imperial vessel. We could use your guidance, Master Jedi. The Captain would like you to negotiate with the Moff on our behalf.”

Gatten and Praven shared a look.

“A Moff?” Gatten got to his feet. “I will go.”

Mordivai watched Gatten leave the room, and then turned to Praven. “What do you think this is about?”

Praven folded his hands on the table, his eyes flicking between the room’s two exits. “They will make us an offer,” he paused, speaking slowly, “and if we refuse, they will respond with force. I can’t imagine what they want, but we should be prepared for a confrontation.”

“You really think it will come to that?”

“Gatten tells me I am a pessimist, but yes, I do think it is a possibility.”

Mordivai sat in silence. The pleasant conversations of the other guests around him felt incongruous now, their laughter a bit too loud, their air too casual. Mordivai always knew that someday he would be forced to face the people of the Empire - his own people - but he never expected that moment to come so soon.

“Master, does it bother you to fight Imperials?”

Praven fixed his orange eyes on Mordivai. “It’s never easy. Sometimes I see recognition in a Sith’s eyes, right before I kill him. It can be...disconcerting. But I fight only when I must and I fight only to defend. I try to protect the innocents when I can.”

Praven rose from his seat then. “I can’t just sit here,” he grumbled. “Come, and we will walk a bit.”

Mordivai followed Praven out of the lounge. They strolled the hallways, working their way across the ship from one side to the other. A wide window eventually stopped their progress, and there they found a small crowd gathered. The passengers were pressing their faces against the glass and conversing in worried voices. Guests parted when they saw Praven approaching, giving Mordivai a clear view of what lay beyond. A huge Imperial ship hovered outside, looking ominous and unwelcoming.

“Doesn’t look like they’re messing around.” Mordivai stared at the ship, his thoughts suddenly going to his father. What if he were on that ship? And if not that one, what about the next or the next? Mordivai feared that he would forever be waiting for the terrible day when he crossed paths with one of his parents.

At first, Mordivai believed his thoughts had simply gotten the better of him. A terrible pall of dread swept over him like a dark cloud, casting his mood into despair. But then he noticed that Praven was wincing next to him, his eyes blinking shut. Praven lifted his head and his hand strayed - unconsciously it seemed - to the lightsaber at his belt.

“Negotiations have failed, Mordivai. The ship has been boarded. Three, no, four Sith are here.”

“I felt them too.”

Praven turned abruptly and stalked through the crowd, gesturing for Mordivai to follow. They were nearing the bridge when the intercom engaged and a male voice boomed over the ship’s loudspeakers. Mordivai recognized the familiar clipped tones of Imperial speech.

“This is Darth Harrow. I have commandeered this ship. Bring Ambassador Vyn Asara to the bridge or I will begin executing the piloting crew until she arrives.”

Praven shook his head. “They never intended to negotiate.”

They picked up the pace, turned a corner, and Praven skidded to a stop. From behind him, Mordivai caught site of four Imperial troopers, armed and ready at the end of the hallway.

“Jedi! Open fire!” one of them cried. And then Mordivai’s lightsaber was in his hand, his instincts taking over, his world slowing to a crawl. His blade was a blur, catching blaster bolts as they rained down on them, and Praven was a whirlwind of ferocity, a growl on his lips as he bared down on the row of soldiers. Mordivai trudged forward, blocking their assault, until he was close enough to see the surprise and alarm on their faces. Two of them fell to Praven’s blade and Mordivai dispatched another. The last soldier broke and ran and Mordivai raised his lightsaber for a throw, but Praven’s hand shot out, holding him back.

“Let him go.”

“They just...they opened fire on us.” Mordivai was still reeling from the shock. The sting of battle still infused his limbs, and he felt taut and ready for more.

Cries of panic erupted from one of the nearby corridors and the sound of more blaster fire followed.

“They’re not firing on passengers, are they?” Mordivai felt sick at the thought.

“Listen,” Praven said, and he turned and dropped a hand onto Mordivai’s shoulder. “Our first priority is to keep these people safe.” His orange eyes were hard and bright, more serious than Mordivai had ever seen them. “Tell people to stay in their rooms, help the crew gather the wandering passengers into lounges, lock the doors, make sure no people are roaming the hallways. Understand?”

“I do, Master.”

“Good. Take control and they’ll listen to you.” He took off down the hallway, his robe billowing out behind him, leaving Mordivai behind.

Praven was correct. The people he encountered were looking to him for answers, and were eager to comply. He directed them to stay out of the hallways and to relay the message to others. He bumped into a jumpy Nautolan who was attempting to wrangle three small children down the hallway, and the man clutched at Mordivai’s robes, his black eyes fearful and desperate.

“My wife and I got separated. How will she find us?”

“You need to get back to your cabin or to a lounge, whichever is closer. You can meet up with her later.” Mordivai tried to project confidence in his voice, but privately he wondered if things were only going to get worse.

“I don’t know where to go!” the Nautolan choked out. “I’m not sure where we are…”

“Come with me,” Mordivai said. He started down the hall, but when the man didn’t follow he turned to see the middle child laying on the floor while the man tugged impatiently on her arm. Mordivai raced back and scooped up the girl.

“Let’s go!”

The man hurried after him, a baby bouncing in his arm and the oldest child racing to keep up. “Thank you, thank you,” he muttered as they sprinted down the hall. In the distance Mordivai heard more shots being fired and the sound of screams. _Damn it all!_ He detoured into a stairwell and sprinted up the first flight of stairs. He had to pause at the top to wait for the rest of the family. The toddler in his arms reached out a chubby hand to touch his face and hair. The father was coaxing his older child to keep up, and Mordivai held open the door.

“The lounge is here,” he called. The lounge door was closed and locked, so Mordivai peered through the glass and banged on the door. It opened and he was practically pushed into the room by the father behind him. A sea of terrified faces blinked at him, some of them huddled under tables. He set the child on the floor, prying a fistful of his hair out of her grasp and then bolted back out the door. Hushed exclamations followed him, hopeful voices repeating “Jedi, a Jedi” as the door closed behind him.

Mordivai led another group to safety and had just corralled a group of business travelers when a storm of footsteps thundered down the hallway. More Imperial troopers, weapons drawn, burst through a doorway, and seeing Mordivai, they immediately opened fire. Through the sound of terrified yelling all around, Mordivai bolted down the hallway towards them, using Force power to accelerate his speed. His gleaming blade cut them down, but not before one of the passengers behind him got hit by a stray blaster bolt. Mordivai helped the other travelers drag the woman to the nearest safe spot, and was relieved to see that someone had already set up a makeshift medic station.

Mordivai found the door to the ship’s bridge unguarded nearby, and he assumed that the group he had just dispatched had rushed forward to head off anyone getting too close. He stepped through the doorway onto a high platform overlooking a bevy of computer terminals, most of them now empty. Below, standing at the far end of the room in front of a two-story viewport, Mordivai spotted Master Gatten talking heatedly with two Sith. Behind the Sith there was a Twi’lek woman handcuffed between two Imperial troopers.

“Ambassador Asara has agreed to turn herself over,” Gatten was saying. “We have fulfilled our terms of the agreement. Now you must honor your part.”

Gatten was large for a Cathar, but the Sith Pureblood he spoke to dwarfed him in size. The Sith had his hands hooked casually in his belt. He glanced over at the second Sith, a blonde-haired woman, with an arrogant toss of his head.

“Seems our Jedi here misunderstood us.”

Mordivai recognized the voice as being the one he had heard over the intercom. Darth Harrow turned back to Gatten with a smug roll of his shoulders.

“This ship is mine now. You are just in the way.”

In a flash of motion, Harrow’s lightsaber was in his hand, the red blade bursting to life. One piercing thrust was all it took, straight into Gatten’s abdomen and clean out the other side, and Gatten feel to his knees. There was a second of absolute silence and then Gatten toppled forward, landing face down at the Sith’s feet.

Mordivai doubled over, struck by a crushing pain in his chest, feeling like someone had bored a hole into his heart. He knew, in that instant, that he had felt the moment of Gatten’s death. He gripped the railing to remain standing, blind horror turning his world into a sea of red. Just like that, Gatten’s life had been snuffed out. He had been unarmed, not even getting a chance to draw his weapon.

“Ah,” said a quiet female voice from behind him. “The Padawan reveals himself.”

Mordivai spun around, at first seeing nothing. Then the air shimmered and a woman appeared, her face ghastly pale with white hair to match. A double bladed lightsaber came to life in her hand.

Mordivai drew his own blade, and barely in time. The Sith was on him in a rush of speed, moving impossibly fast. Mordivai blocked her first strike with a bare fraction of a second to spare. Immediately, he went on the offensive, anger and pain driving him into a frenzy of whirling blows, and she fell back in surprise. Seeing that he was gaining ground increased Mordivai’s drive and he lunged forward, catching the Sith on the sleeve and drawing a hiss from her lips. Her eyes flashed and she thrust her palm forward. Mordivai was lifted off his feet and hurled backwards. The railing slammed into his back, blocking him from being tossed clean off of the platform. Pain shot in a line where the railing had hit him, a dangerous distraction, and the Sith jumped to take advantage of his momentary weakness. Mordivai slumped to the ground just as her red blade buzzed over him, ruffling his hair with its passing, a strike that had been aimed to take his head off.

Mordivai threw himself to the ground and rolled away, coming to his feet just as the Sith was pivoting to aim another strike. He blocked her blow, and managed to get in another hit of his own, landing a grazing cut to her right thigh. She bared her teeth and launched into a spin, her foot hurling towards Mordivai’s face. _Duck!_ his mind screamed, but she caught him on the chin before he could dodge out of the way. His head snapped back and the ceiling spun overhead. He hit a nearby computer terminal and lost his balance. His fingers clutched wildly at a chair but it toppled over with him, and he crashed to the ground, the heavy rolling wheels of the chair pinning his left leg.

His lightsaber was torn from his grasp and Mordivai looked up in horror as it flew obediently into the Sith’s outstretched hand. She smiled, cruel and triumphant.

A throaty roar tore through the air and a shape launched over Mordivai’s head. The Sith blundered backwards, her jaw dropping open in confusion. Master Praven landed solidly in front of her, his blue lightsaber already in motion. The Sith was on the defensive, struggling to recover, and Praven drove her hard, throwing out strike after relentless strike. Mordivai stumbled to his feet, looking around for his lightsaber in the hopes that the Sith might have dropped it, but it was nowhere to be seen.

Out of the corner of his eye, Mordivai saw an enormous blur flying in his direction, and he threw himself out of the way just as Darth Harrow took a Force augmented leap over the railing. From beside Gatten’s body across the room, a streak of brilliant Force lightning shot from the third Sith’s fingers, narrowly missing Praven.

Mordivai Force-lifted the toppled chair at his feet and hurled it at the third Sith with everything he had. She stopped it suspended in the air, and then let it fall harmlessly to her side.

“Mordivai!” Praven voice was strained and hoarse. “Retreat!”

Praven was barely holding his own in close combat against two Sith, and the third was advancing towards them.

When Mordivai hesitated, Praven’s head whirled around and for the briefest moment he caught Mordivai’s eye. “Go, I said! Don’t let the Sith catch you!”

Mordivai swallowed a protest and bolted for the door, feeling shamed and panicked. Praven was sacrificing his own life for his. _I can’t let his death be in vain. I must survive this._

He ran through the hallways, but it quickly became apparent that Imperial troops had taken over the ship and were patrolling nearly every room. Mordivai slipped into an alcove to catch his breath, then slipped out again.

Where could he go? He needed to find a place to hide. Perhaps there was still a chance that he could escape this, maybe flee the ship when it landed. He crept through the corridors, frequently ducking into side rooms, keeping his steps light and all his senses on alert. He mistimed a dash, however, and heard a holler as a soldier spotted him. He broke into a run, hurling himself at full tilt, uncomfortably aware of how he was now weaponless. _The Force is with me,_ he reminded himself.

He threw himself at the nearest door, letting out a groan of frustration when he found it was bolted shut. There was no time to force it open, the troopers would be on him any second. He threw his back to the door, pressing himself into the recessed doorway, and willed the Force to conceal him, imagining himself blending into shadow. Footsteps sounded closer and the first soldier came into view. Mordivai closed his eyes. _I am one with the dark. There is nothing here to see._

“Where did he go?” Two troopers paused just out of sight and turned to converse with one another.

“You imagined it, dolt. There’s nobody here.”

“I didn’t imagine it. He got away. We’re screwed. Here comes Lord Jaspon.”

The fourth Sith that Praven had spoken of, one whom Mordivai had not yet seen, came into view. Mordivai pressed himself into the metal door, picturing himself melding with it, flat as a board. Lord Jaspon was small of stature and skeletally thin. He floated down the hallway like a ghost, and Mordivai could feel the stark fear of the troopers as he approached.

“You signaled me. Where is he?” Lord Jaspon had a pointed chin, one of the only features visible from within his hooded cloak.

“He got away from us, my lord. I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m the sorry one,” Lord Jaspon said. Mordivai could no longer see the trooper who had spoken, but he clearly saw Lord Jaspon’s hands shoot out from within the sleeves of his robe, and a sizzle of power struck the soldier just out of sight. The soldier made a strangled noise, followed by a loud thud.

“Don’t be a failure like your friend here,” Lord Jaspon said to the remaining trooper. “Find the missing Jedi.”

“Understood my lord.” The soldier hurried off, probably thinking his feet couldn’t take him away fast enough from Lord Jaspon. The Sith remained, pausing to tap a comm on his ear.

“False alarm, Darth Harrow. The Jedi slipped away.”

“Make sure they know to capture him alive, Jaspon. Get the word out. Have the troops pull all the red headed passengers for inspection. The Pureblood traitor seemed keen on keeping this one out of our hands. I’m suspicious. His feelings are strong for his Padawan, even though he tries to hide it.”

“Interesting,” Lord Jaspon said. “You don’t think they are related, do you? Father and son?”

Harrow’s tinny reply came through the comm unit. “Doubtful. But just in case this boy knows something I want you to interrogate him when we find him.”

“Gladly, my lord.” Jaspon disconnected the comm and was silent. Mordivai slowed his breathing, trying to keep as still as a tombstone and as small as a speck of dust.

Jaspon turned slowly, and Mordivai’s heart skipped a beat, but then he moved on, his footfalls gradually fading away.

Mordivai waited until he could no longer hear even a trace of sound, and then slipped out of his hiding spot. He didn’t get far before he realized that there were too many Imperials now for him to move about the ship any longer. The thought of giving himself up filled him with dread. He knew what Imperial interrogation entailed, even though he had never experienced it himself.

He dodged through an open door and found himself in the kitchen. It was empty except for a droid wearing an apron.

“Oh!” The droid threw up his hands, his illuminated eyes blinking.

“Shhh.” Mordivai gestured to his lips and the droid stared blankly back at him. It said nothing more, and Mordivai began dodging between counters, sliding open drawers and peering inside. In the third drawer he found a set of chef’s knives and he pulled out the nearest one, which ended up being nearly as long as his forearm.

He gritted his teeth and severed his newly acquired Padawan braid, tossing it in the drawer with the knife. First his lightsaber, and now this. It pained him to erase all the signs of his life as a Jedi. He had worked harder than most to attain even the rank of Padawan and had barely gotten time to enjoy the satisfaction of his accomplishment. _Temporary,_ he thought. _Just until I get out of here._

He stripped out of his Jedi robes and tossed them in the incinerator chute. His tunic and pants were fairly nondescript, but Mordivai still didn’t like how exposed he felt.

“Give me your apron,” he said to the droid.

“Of course Jedi,” the droid said.

“Be quiet with the Jedi stuff! I’m just...I’m a kitchen boy. Got it?”

“Whatever you say, Jedi.” The droid handed him the apron and Mordivai rolled his eyes and quickly tied it on.

It had not been a moment too soon. Mordivai heard voices and a soldier burst through the doorway, his blaster rifle against his shoulder.

Mordivai and the droid both threw their hands in the air.

“You! Boy. Get out here.”

Mordivai complied, still keeping his hands upright and visible. The trooper prodded him forward and Mordivai let him push him down the hallway. He was taken to the vast hangar bay, where he discovered that all the other passengers were being rounded up, thousands of them by the looks of it. He was shoved into the crowd and he quickly delved deeper into the sea of people, careful to avoid the outside walls where lines of troopers stood guard over their captives.

He spent a long night on the floor, sandwiched between a family with a sobbing child and an elderly couple. There was no way that this ship was headed to Coruscant now. They hurled through space, headed deep into the heart of the Empire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgiving to all my American readers! I will be gone for the next week celebrating the holiday.


	6. Homecoming

Mordivai slept little that night. It was bad enough that he was lying on a cold metal floor on a captured vessel, but he was also preoccupied with the image of Gatten’s death. It replayed in his head over and over in a torturous stream, and each time Mordivai felt the pain anew. He knew that Jedi lived dangerous lives and that this was war time. But Gatten was a scholar, a gentle soul, and Mordivai had expected him to always be there. He tried to recall the last words they had spoken together, but all he knew was that it had been something insignificant and unmemorable.

Praven also occupied his thoughts. His master was still alive, Mordivai knew, or else he would have felt his passing. He did not envy the future that Praven faced now that he was back in the hands of the Empire. Praven was strong and stubborn. Mordivai thought that he would die rather than let the Empire break him or be turned again. Praven might be as good as dead already. Mordivai’s throat felt thick and he buried his head in his arms. He had to keep going. He had to find a way back to Tython.

They docked at a space station and the next few hours were spent sorting the passengers into groups. At first Mordivai didn’t understand what was going on, but as he shuffled with the crowd towards the far side of the room, he saw with horror that passengers were being fitted with slave collars and then herded into two large enclosures.

Two of the Sith lords were moving down the line of passengers, inspecting people and occasionally yanking someone from the crowd. It didn’t take long for Mordivai to notice that only red-headed passengers were being accosted. He looked around, but there was no place to go or hide. The blonde Sith he had seen standing next to Darth Harrow on the bridge was getting closer. Mordivai tried to calm his breathing.

_I am just another dark-haired passenger. I am no one._ Mordivai concentrated on projecting his thoughts, imagining a cloud of darkness enshrouding him. _Nothing to see here. Nothing of note._

The Sith was practically alongside him, strolling with her hands behind her back, her eyes boring into each person as she passed, her face fixed with a frown. Mordivai stared at his feet and threw every ounce of power he had at keeping himself concealed from her notice.

The Sith passed him by.

Mordivai hoped he would not have to do this anymore times today. He didn’t know how long he could pull off the deception, and if Darth Harrow should come by...Mordivai doubted that that was a Sith who would fall for being so easily persuaded.

The last time Mordivai had been in Imperial territory felt like another lifetime entirely. Mordivai had been treated like a future lord, had been given respect. He had been free to do as he pleased and had not had to explain himself to anyone. Being treated like chattel now would have incurred such fury in his mother! No one in their right mind would choose to cross the Emperor’s Wrath.

Mordivai was nearing the end of the line. A table had been set up and two bureaucrats sat behind it, looking bored. Mordivai made a quick decision.

“There’s been a mistake,” he said as he approached the table. The man didn’t even bother to look up at him. He continued to type something into a datapad, as if Mordivai had never spoken. Mordivai continued on, raising his voice.

“My name is Mordivai Quinn. My father is Admiral Malavai Quinn, and my mother is the Emperor’s Wrath.”

The man looked up. “Uh-huh. And I’m the Emperor’s nephew.”

He ran a scanner over Mordivai’s body and then turned to his colleague. “Mordivai Riel, citizen of Coruscant.”

“No! That’s not my real name! My name is Quinn! I was in a crash, I was brought to Tython. I am a citizen of the Empire!”

“Listen kid, don’t bother. Do you have an occupation?”

Mordivai closed his mouth. Throughout his childhood, people had responded to the mention of his parent’s names with fear, respect, and caution. He was stunned. His words meant nothing. His parent’s names had no power if no one believed him.

“I am a…a student. In history.” It was horribly vague and Mordivai waited for the man to call him out on such a weak answer.

“Group B it is then. Step to your left.” He thumbed behind him, where there was a large pen filled with frightened people, many of them elderly, women or children.

Mordivai walked numbly away from the table. He glanced towards the holding pen for people assigned to Group A, all young and in good physical shape, many of them muscular and much larger than Mordivai. Should he feel lucky that he wasn’t put in the manual labor group?

He was yanked by the arm and felt his head locked in a vice-like grip. Someone forced his chin against his chest and then the cool metal of the slave collar was sliding around the back of his neck. His hands flew reflexively to the band, his fingers curling underneath the lightweight metal, feeling the need to take one last gasp of air before the band hummed tight around the sides of his throat. He was not really suffocating, but the collar was snug. A shove propelled him into the pen.

Sometime later, the slavers were admitted and they began picking through the assembled group and pointing out individuals. Mordivai sat on a crate in the back of the pen, trying not to be noticed. Eventually, however, a Houk caught his eye and pointed a thick finger in his direction.

“Him,” he bellowed, “and her, and her.”

Mordivai was ushered out of the pen along with two women. The Houk slaver gave them all a once over and then nodded. Mordivai watched as credits were exchanged and then the three of them were led a short ways away where four more slaves, taken from Group A presumably, were already waiting.

The Houk had a slave stall set up on the space station in the middle of the merchant’s wing. Mordivai was waved into a small, individually sized pen, not really designed to contain him, since he could have easily climbed over the low walls, but designed to separate the slaves from each other. Inside was a stool and what Mordivai took to be a refresher pot. No privacy here apparently. He was given a ration bar and a small bottle of water and then left alone. Mordivai tried climbing out of the pen once, but was struck by an electric shock from the collar as soon as his body crossed over the wall. He stifled a cry and stumbled back inside.

After an hour or so, a male Twi’lek came along, with a datapad in his hand.

“Mordivai Riel?”

“Yes.”

“Student of history, hmm.” The Twi’lek had a strong accent that made it hard for Mordivai to even understand him. “Skills? Languages? Better you tell all. You get a better job that way.”

The Twi’lek jotted everything Mordivai told him down on the datapad, and prompted him with a few other suggestions. Could he cook? Garden? Did he know anything about droid mechanics? Scrap salvage? Archeology or armstech? Could he sing, play an instrument or dance?

Mordivai heard himself saying “no” to so many questions that he began to wonder if he had any useful skills at all besides esoteric Force theory, history and Jedi combat. He couldn’t really offer those as skills, however, and he wondered if this Twi’lek thought he was useless.

Finally the Twi’lek hung the datapad on the end of the gate and left. Nothing of note happened for the rest of that day and that night Mordivai was left to sleep in his pen. There was no real day or night on the space station, although traffic quieted considerably during the non-business hours. The slaver’s operation however, never shut down. The Twi’lek took over from the Houk during the quietest hours, and a few customers stopped by, although none of them took an interest in Mordivai.

Two days passed. Mordivai was fed a diet of ration bars, coarsely chopped salad, and dried jerky. A few times buyers would walk by and glance at his datapad, but he was rarely given a second look. He began to wonder why the Houk had picked him out at all. Only sleeping helped the time pass faster, and once the strangeness of being in this pen lost its novelty, Mordivai found himself becoming bored and depressed. He spent more and more time sleeping, his mood deteriorating by the day.

00o00

Mordivai was awoken by voices from outside his pen. He cracked open an eye. The Houk slaver was chatting animatedly at a Chiss male. Well, Mordivai assumed it was a Chiss, even though he’d never actually seen one himself. The man had deep blue skin and even his hair was blue, although that was of a lighter shade. His eyes were solid red, which Mordivai found a bit disconcerting. His mother’s eyes were a beautiful shade of red, but these eyes had no pupils, or if they did, they were equally red as well. It reminded Mordivai of a lifeless droid.

The Chiss nodded absently to the slaver, and stopped in front of the gate to Mordivai’s pen, not even bothering to glance inside. He pulled out the datapad hanging from the cord attached to the gate and examined it.

“Not looking for a manual laborer then?” the slaver was asking. “This one here has many academic skills. He’d be suitable for mercantile work, science or research, or as a household slave.”

“He’s been recently acquired, I see,” the Chiss said. “He’ll need to be broken in. I expect to be compensated with a discount.” The Chiss looked up, but Mordivai couldn’t quite tell if he was looking directly at him or not.

“Of course!" The Houk clapped his chubby hands. "All new slaves are discounted five percent.”

The Chiss made a noncommittal noise and wandered away. Mordivai closed his eyes and tried to drift off to sleep again. A short time later, however, the Chiss was back.

“Let me get a better look at this one.”

The slaver unlocked the gate and beckoned to Mordivai. “Out you go, let’s go!”

Mordivai stepped out of the pen. The Chiss looked him up and down, a scowl settling on his face.

“Age nineteen, you say? He’s scrawny to have reached maturity.”

“Confirmed with a bioscan. But his skills do not require brawn.”

The Chiss grabbed Mordivai by the hair and pulled it roughly back away from his face. “There’s some damage here.”

“An old wound, from before I got him.”

“As long as it’s not a sign of a discipline issue.”

“Oh no! He’s been docile the entire time we’ve had him.”

“What’s your scar from, slave?” The Chiss fixed his sharp red eyes on Mordivai, his face stern.

“It was an accident. Engine explosion.”

“Is your eyesight keen?”

“It’s unaffected, sir,” Mordivai answered.

“All right, I’ll take this one.”

“Excellent! All our merchandise comes with a one week health guarantee of course. I’ll get the contract prepared for your signature.”

Mordivai was casually nudged back into the pen, and the slaver left, still talking, with the Chiss walking beside him. A few minutes later, the Chiss returned and Mordivai was fitted with a new slave collar; apparently the Chiss had come prepared with one of his own. The Chiss checked the fit of the collar, then stepped back. Mordivai saw he was holding the button to the shock control in his right hand. Before he had a chance to think about what that meant, a sharp, vibrating pain rattled through his teeth and blurred his vision. He doubled over in surprise. His grandmother had never used shock collars on her slaves.

“Obey and you won’t have to endure any more of that,” the Chiss said. “Stay close behind me.”

Mordivai was loaded into the back of a speeder, feeling more like cargo than a person, and taken to the nearest ship hangar. He had no idea where in the galaxy he was going, or how long the journey would be. As Mordivai walked through the hangar, taking care to stay within close range of the Chiss at all times, he dared to venture a question as to the name of their destination.

The Chiss whirled on him, and Mordivai was met with another excruciating shock from the collar. Mordivai decided that he wasn’t sure what was worse; the shock itself or the fear of getting another. Maybe that was the whole point.

“I didn’t ask you a question,” the Chiss said. He turned and walked up the gangplank of a small passenger ship, and after taking a second to catch his breath, Mordivai followed.

00o00

Mordivai knelt in the Dromund Kaas mud before his new master, his hands bound and his eyes fixed on the pair of black shiny boots in front of him. His head was smarting from the blow the Chiss had just given him for forgetting to keep his eyes downcast. In that brief moment, he had gotten his first glimpse of Lord Shastine, the human Sith who now owned him. She wasn’t forbidding or stern like he was expecting. In fact, she was quite the opposite. Her face had been lit with a smile like that of an impatient child on their birthday, dimpled cheeks and all.

“I hope you are pleased with my selection, my lord. He matches your requirements.” There was a hint of nervousness in the Chiss’s voice.

“Oh, splendid, Skiro!” She actually clapped her hands in joy. “You may stand, slave.”

Mordivai carefully got to his feet, working to maintain his balance. Lord Shastine was tiny in stature, he discovered. With his head bowed, he inadvertently caught a glimpse of her impish eyes, bright with excitement as she peered up at him, and the girish brown curls that bounced from her head like springs. He dropped his gaze away and focused on his toes.

“Oh, he’s adorably shy, isn’t he? What is your name, slave?”

“Mordivai, my lord.”

“Hmm, curious name. I like it.”

Mordivai felt a light touch against his chin as Lord Shastine tilted his head up. Reluctantly, he met her eyes.

“Skiro tells me that you can read and translate Old Galactic and Mid-Galactic standard.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Very good.” Her grip on his chin tightened and she turned his head from side to side, inspecting him. Then her eyes traveled downward in a way that made Mordivai oddly uncomfortable.

“Break him in for me, will you Skiro?”

“With pleasure, my lord,” the Chiss answered. “I’ll have him returned to you after he’s branded.”

“Oh no,” Lord Shastine said. “Where he’s going he won’t be seen anyway. Do what you need to do but don’t damage him overmuch, hmmm?” She released Mordivai’s chin and turned away.

Skiro scowled at him, then leaned over and spoke quietly in Mordivai’s ear, his normally bored tone transforming into one that nearly dripped with malice.

“Your hell is only just beginning, slave.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I've edited last chapter's note a bit and moved it to this chapter, because I think belongs better at the end of this chapter instead.
> 
> Now that Mordivai has entered the Empire, the title to this story will start to make more sense. ;-) I debated whether to tell readers ahead of time what SWTOR class the protagonist in this story belongs to, since I also didn't want to give away too much. So I'm curious to know what you guys think. Would you rather know upfront what class a story is going to be about or do you mind the ambiguity? I'm still considering putting an author's note after the very first chapter giving people a little more background on the story. I did add some tags to the story's metadata that give a good idea of where this story will eventually be headed.
> 
> I also will mostly likely bump the rating to an M soon. That means that there will be come adult content coming up, but nothing explicit. Mordivai also has some dark things in his future, including slavery. I didn't want to sugar coat what slavery among the Sith would have been like, but just as an fyi, I'm not going to spring any bloody or violent depictions of torture on you.


	7. Stripped to the Bone

Mordivai had been expecting to see torture implements when he entered the room, so he was surprised at first when Skiro pushed him into a large, windowless cell that was nearly empty. Then he saw the shackles and chain hanging from the ceiling in the room’s center. With nothing else here - no furniture, bare walls - what was Skiro going to do? Mordivai decided to prepare himself for a beating.

Skiro fitted the shackles around his wrists, about at chest height, leaving lots of slack in the chain. He stepped back and gave Mordivai a chilling smile. He spoke only two words before leaving Mordivai alone in the brightly lit room.

“Have fun.”

Mordivai stood still and waited, his nerves on edge. Nothing happened. No interrogation droid, no strange devices appearing out of the walls. Just...nothing.

It was only after some hours that Mordivai began to understand. His feet were growing tired and he hadn’t eaten anything other than the usual slave gruel that had been passed out among the pens early that morning. What time was it now? Afternoon at least, Mordivai suspected, maybe even early evening. He also had to relieve himself. The worst realization came when he discovered why he had been given such a long length of excess chain. He could walk in a tight circle, but the chain fell just short of allowing him to actually do anything else. Lying down, sitting, even kneeling were out of the question. Most aggravating of all was how close the chain came to allowing his knees to touch the ground. It was just long enough to give him the illusion that he might be able to do it, but then the chain grew taut and the shackles bit into his wrists, leaving him a bare hand’s breadth away from reaching his goal.

What was the meaning behind this type of torture? Hours passed. Mordivai was soon plagued by aching feet, cramps in his calves, pangs of hunger, and shooting pains in his bladder. Was Skiro expecting something from him? Was this some sort of test? Was Skiro off preparing other, more devious forms of torment? Maybe being beating would have been preferable, assuming it was over quickly. Mordivai began to feel angry, then desperate, then defeated.

Mordivai had been standing in a puddle of his own urine for some time, feeling sick with hunger, when the lights went out. Without windows or any source of outside light, the darkness was absolute. He blinked and strained his ears. Was someone coming? Was this a new phase of his confinement? In his exhaustion, his mind began to play tricks on him. He thought he saw shadows at the corners of his vision, even though it knew it was impossible for him to see any such thing. Once, he thought he felt the faintest touch on his arm, like an exhaled breath, but when nothing else happened, he decided that he had imagined it. He tried to curb his fear.

“There is no emotion, there is peace.” His voice cracked from disuse. He repeated the Jedi Code, his voice gradually growing stronger, until the fear dissipated. Eventually exhaustion set in instead, and he felt his sense of balance wavering. At one point, the room seemed to tilt, and when he tried to lean the other way to compensate, he lost his footing altogether. The chain jerked tight and the shackles cut into his wrists as the full weight of his body pulled against them. He cried out and stumbled back to his feet again.

The hunger pains left him eventually, but now he was becoming unbearably thirsty. His mouth felt like wood and even swallowing was an effort. He blinked in the darkness, moving in and out of a bleary sleep. He finally lost consciousness and fell, the shackles again slicing into his wrists, harder this time, and more painful given the chafing that already plagued him.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, at least a day, he decided, maybe more, when Skiro returned. Bright light flooded the room in a blinding flash, sending sharp pains through Mordivai’s head. He closed his eyes, preferring the darkness.

He heard the scuff of Skiro’s boots along the floor, coming closer, but then they stopped. Skiro said nothing and a for a long time. Finally Mordivai couldn’t take the silence any longer.

“Can I have some water?”

With his eyes closed, the blow came out of nowhere, launching him off his feet. He fell, the chain clanking as it pulled taut, and Mordivai swung in a circle by his wrists.

“That’s for speaking out of turn.” Skiro’s voice was muffled by the ringing in Mordivai’s ears. That was quickly forgotten when a second blow came at him as Skiro planted a boot in his back.

“And that’s for your request. You want nothing. You need nothing. You are nothing. You eat, breathe and piss only when Lord Shastine or I say so. Got it?”

Mordivai fumbled to his feet, the pain in his wrists like a ring of fire. “Yes,” he croaked.

“No,” Skiro said. “I’m not sure you do yet.” He reached into a canister on his belt and scooped something out. “Open your mouth.”

Mordivai hesitated, guessing that whatever it was Skiro had for him, it was probably going to be unpleasant. This time, however, he saw the blow coming. He jerked away, then opened his mouth.

“Your compliance should be immediate. You are a slave. You have no need to think.” He pushed something icy cold into Mordivai’s mouth. An ice cube.

Mordivai closed his eyes, trying to suck every last drop of water out of the ice. Skiro chuckled, allowed him a few more, and then walked through the door, the light blinking out behind him.

More time passed. Mordivai realized that he hadn’t had to urinate in a long time. He knew this was a bad sign. His palms were dry and itchy and his tongue felt thick in his mouth. He had no energy left and his legs felt shaky and weak. Eventually he couldn’t keep himself upright any longer. He slid down slowly, holding onto the chain until he reached its end. He tucked his legs underneath him and gently let go. It hurt, like a knife cutting into his flesh, but eventually the pain became a dull, constant presence, and finally his wrists went numb. He closed his eyes.

He hadn’t realized that he had fallen asleep until he was awoken some time later. The door slid open, but no light other than the faint glow from the hallway outside entered. A figure was silhouetted there, a female Twi’lek by the shape. She ambled in, her gait awkward and lop-sided, and Mordivai realized that she was crippled, possible in both legs.

Passively, he watched as she approached and then squatted down beside him. He was vaguely conscious of the fact that he was filthy and probably stank, and knew that he should feel humiliated by this, but the thought was distant and hazy.

“It’s almost over,” she said, her voice a hush. “I brought something for you.” She fished out a bottle and opened it, touching it to his lips. “It’s water. Hey, slow down, easy. Drink it slow, ok?”

Mordivai tilted his head and felt the water cascading down his throat so divine and sweet. He couldn’t drink it fast enough and it dribbled down his chin. Immediately after his stomach lurched and he felt sick. Oh please, he thought. Stay down. He groaned.

“See what I mean? Just rest a minute.”

He breathed slowly, trying to calm his stomach, and eventually it settled. “More,” he gasped.

“I can’t. I’m sorry. Skiro will know. You’re almost to the end though.”

Mordivai watched her put the water away, unable to take his eyes off of it as it disappeared into a pocket. She then brought out something else, what looked like a chunk of stale bread. “Ok, little bites, remember?”

She held the bread while he bit into it and waited while he chewed slowly. Never had something so tasteless and dry felt so good going down. It was a tiny piece and it was soon gone. Mordivai raised his head to looked at her.

“Thank you.”

She was wearing a simple clothes and a slave collar, he noticed. In the faint light he couldn’t see much else, although he guessed her skin to be a shade of pink. Her lekku were decorated with beautiful dark patterns that reminded Mordivai of crawling vines.

“I know what’s it’s like,” she said quietly. “I’ve got to go.” She limped out, sliding the door closed behind her. It locked with a click and Mordivai was left alone in the dark again.

00o00

Mordivai was wavering in and out of a light doze when the door opened once more and Skiro came in. Mordivai had been trying to sleep standing up again, gripping the chain with his fingers and using it to lean against. Skiro approached and then snapped open the shackles. Mordivai immediately lost his balance and collapsed onto the damp and dirty floor.

“Take off your clothes.” Skiro walked out of the room, leaving the door open.

What new horror was Skiro planning now? Mordivai crawled over to a dry corner of the room, his arms shaking badly. He knew better than to question Skiro’s instructions, so he reluctantly stripped off his dirty clothes one at a time. He was down to his underclothes when Skiro came back in.

“Don’t just stand there. Hurry up and get it all off. If you think I enjoy looking at your sorry ass, think again.”

Mordivai peeled off the last of his clothes.

“Follow me.”

Mordivai took a step forward, but his legs gave out underneath him and he blundered into a nearby wall. He picked himself up and hobbled after Skiro. He was led out into the hallway and into another cell. This one had a drain in the center of the floor and a hose attached to the wall. Skiro turned a few dials nearby and the hose sprung to life, spewing out a frothy stream of soap and water mixed together.

“Get clean. Be thorough and be quick about it.”

Mordivai was left alone again. Like a old man, he shuffled across the floor to the hose. Even his fingers resisted and he ended up dropping it several times. He finally settled for kneeling on the floor. The water was cold, but it felt good. Mordivai poured it over his head and then did his best to wash the grime from his body and hair. He longed to guzzle the water straight from the hose, but forced himself to curb the temptation. The soap would probably just make him sick.

He was just finishing up when Skiro returned.

“Rinse off.” Skiro turned another dial and the water changed to clear. Seeing the water cold and clean broke down the last of Mordivai’s self control and he tilted the hose up and drank from it instead. With every swallow he expected the hose to be torn away from his grasp, or for Skiro to hit him, but Skiro left him alone. Once he had had his fill, he rinsed off. Skiro tossed a pile of clothes onto a dry spot in the corner.

“Get dressed.” He leaned back against the wall and waited.

In the pile, Mordivai found a pair of pants and a shirt made from cheap fabric, some plain, flat sandals and nothing else. He had to sit down again in order to get his clothes on. When he finished he slid to the floor and closed his eyes.

“Not now, slave. Get up!”

Skiro lunged forward and Mordivai pushed himself to his feet, holding out his hands and waiting for the blow which was surely coming. But Skiro stepped back and only nodded. “Walk behind me and don’t get lost.”

It was daylight outside, small patches of sunlight breaking through the clouds to heat the already hot and humid air. Mordivai had not been allowed to dry off, and now his clothes stuck to him with little chance of them drying. He kept his head down and followed Skiro’s feet across the compound and up to a large, imposing house.

Inside, the floors were carpeted in lush, bright colors, and every niche was decorated with statuary and Sith relics. Mordivai soon lost track of the winding hallways and doors he passed through. Skiro stopped finally in front of a door and pressed an intercom in the wall.

“My lord, the slave is here for your inspection.”

The door slid into the wall and Skiro stepped back, prodding Mordivai forward.

Lord Shastine was lounging an oversized bed with a datapad in her hands. She slid out of bed, her face eager as always. Mordivai stopped and let her come forward the rest of the way, reluctant to enter such a personal space.

“He is ready for service,” Skiro said from behind him.

“Well, let’s find out.” Shastine gave Mordivai a bright smile. “Get on your knees and lick my feet, slave.”

 _Don’t think. Just do._ Mordivai carefully lowered his himself to the ground, trying not to fall over. He was leaning forward on his hands and knees, when Shastine suddenly grabbed him by the hair and pulled him back into a sitting position.

“That’s enough slave, you’ve showed me your intention. I don’t really want you slobbering on my nice slippers.” She tittered and Mordivai placed his hands on his knees and sat with his eyes cast at Shastine’s feet.

“Wonderful work, Skiro.” There was a constant mirth in Shastine’s voice, as if she simply couldn’t contain her joy.

“I aim to please you, my lord.”

“Get him set up at his post and start him in on work tomorrow. I’ve got a new shipment coming in in the morning.”

“As you wish.” The deference in Skiro’s voice dropped away as soon he switched to addressing Mordivai. “Get up, slave and follow me.”


	8. Losing Hope. Finding Joy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm bumping the rating on this to an M starting with this chapter.

Skiro led him across the wide lawn to a small, circular metal building at the perimeter of the property. Inside, there was a work table, a sink, a rack filled with empty bins, and a few archeological measuring and dating instruments hung along the wall. On the far side was a bed of sorts, basically just a mere pallet raised a bit off the ground, with a tiny pillow and no blankets. Near his pallet were some rungs that were soldered to the wall, leading all the way to the roof, where there was a sliding panel built into the middle of the domed ceiling. Skiro saw the direction of his gaze and nodded.

“Some crazy bastard thought to put an astronomer’s observatory on Dromund Kaas a while back. He invented a telescope that would pierce the cloud cover and do a bunch of other fancy things, but this is all that’s left now.”

Mordivai spun in a slow circle taking it all in.

“Tomorrow you start work,” Skiro continued. “Lord Shastine has a shipment of artifact shards coming in from the slave operation on Korriban. I’ll show you how to sort them into these bins.”

Mordivai nodded.

“Three times a day Ai’lanynn will bring food, and every other day she will bring you fresh clothes. Leave your soiled ones by the door. There’s one spare set of clothes on the shelf.”

Skiro left him, and Mordivai heard the sound of the door latching into place outside. He was weak and hungry and wondered if he’d already missed the timing for the first delivery of food. The pallet, however meager and lumpy it was, could have been a heavenly cloud. He collapsed on it and was asleep within seconds.

When he woke up, there was a plate of food sitting on the work table for him and an empty cup. He hadn’t been aware of anyone entering, and wondered how long he had been asleep. His limbs protested when he rose and stretched, and a wave of lightheadedness assaulted him. He crept to the worktable and found a tray with a little loaf of bread and some kind of cold vegetable stew. He filled the empty cup with water from the sink and guzzled it down. Then he filled it again for a second round. After recovering from the cramps which had him doubled over, he straightened and hobbled back to the table. It was all he could do not to tilt his head and the pour the whole stew down his throat, but he forced himself to take tiny bites, waiting for his stomach to settle after each one. Then he went back to bed and slept some more.

He was awoken this time by the sound of the door opening, and the Twi’lek he had seen the day before entered. He sat up and stumbled to his feet.

“Oh! Don’t get up for me.” She set another tray on the table, gave him a kind smile, and made to leave.

“Wait. What’s your name?”

She turned. She was nearly as tall as he was, he realized. “I’m Ai’lanynn. Are you feeling better now?”

“Better than I was. Thank you, you know, for...everything.”

“Tasen did the same for me when Skiro had me in there.” She paused. “He was the slave you are replacing. He died.”

“I’m sorry.” Mordivai plunged ahead with the next question, already afraid of the answer. “What happened to him?”

“He wasn’t killed, if that’s what you’re asking. He was just old.”

“Oh.” Mordivai realized that thought was disturbing in its own right. Had the man lived his whole life in this room, finally dying in it in the end? I won’t be there that long, he promised himself.

That first night, Mordivai had a harder time falling asleep than he had earlier. After a wasted hour of staring at the ceiling, he rose and climbed the rungs next to his bed to the top of the dome. The panel had been padlocked, but it was of an old design and one that Mordivai suspected could be broken. He sent a flash of power at it and it snapped open easily. The panel proved harder to open, however. Years’ worth of grime and dust had clogged the sliding rails and Mordivai’s arms were shaking before he finally got it to budge. From there it came open a bit easier, although it made a screeching sound that was surely loud enough to wake the dead. Disappointed, but not willing to give up, Mordivai began to inch it open ever so slowly, pausing for long spans of time to listen. At last a crack just wide enough for him to slip through appeared and he pulled himself through it.

The top of the dome was slick and mossy, but Mordivai managed to find a comfortable spot to settle on. From here he could clearly see the demarcation of the estate’s boundaries, hemmed in on all sides by metal walls with energy seals and a few turrets for good measure. There was no way out of this place, although he hadn’t really expected it to be that easy anyway.

They may not have believed him when he revealed his true name back when he was first enslaved, but what about now? Had his parents given him up for dead? Their names meant something, and any Sith who didn’t want to anger the Emperor’s Wrath would surely not take any chances that he might be lying. What was stopping him from declaring himself to Lord Shastine? He tried to imagine coming face to face with his mother and father after seven years. Instead of happiness or relief though, he found the thought made him uncomfortable. He was a Jedi now. Would his father disown him? His mother kill him outright? Or would they simply wash their hands of him in shame? No, he realized, as a terrible horror crept over him, they would send him to the Sith Academy on Korriban. They would try to make him a Sith.

As a child, he had always known that he would go to Korriban and become Sith. Korriban was held up as a reward to be worked for, a chance to prove himself, a place that would sharpen him like a blade until he emerged a deadly weapon. He had had no doubt that he would survive Korriban. He had had the best teachers, training since he was small, and his bloodline was steeped in dark side power. But then everything had changed.

At that moment, he felt very alone. _I am a pariah in my family._ What would he become if he were sent to Korriban? He would either die a Jedi, clinging fiercely to his ideals, or he would fall to depravity and become a Sith. No, he decided, he could never be Sith. Not after the things he had seen. He would have to find another means of escape from here, and he would have to do it on his own, without the benefit of his name. He would rather be a slave, than be sent to Korriban.

When he looked back later on that first night in the workshop, he had not been able to imagine a real timeline for action. But as the weeks wore by, eventually turning into months, his dreams of freedom slipped farther away. He spent his days locked in the windowless workshop, where opportunities for an escape were few. He sorted through crate after crate of broken Sith artifacts pulled from the red sands of Korriban. He cleaned and examined each piece, dated it with one of the scanners, and then sorted it by size, type and age. Many times the fragments were nothing more interesting than pottery or chips of bone, just the remnants of an ancient people’s midden heap.

Occasionally he found some fragments with writing on them. These he was required to set aside, or try and make sense of if they were large enough to read. He greatly looked forward to these moments, when he would be able to put his language skills to use. But Skiro only gave criticism, not praise, and frequently admonished Mordivai for thinking too highly of himself, even when he was correct in his assessments, which he most often was. The more interesting or useful the artifacts were that he discovered, the more likely Mordivai was to receive some form of retribution later from Skiro. His food the next day would be intercepted and would never arrive, or once, Skiro knocked over an entire shelf of sorted bins, undoing days of work and forcing him to start over. Punishment seemed to be based on Skiro’s temperamental moods, or so Mordivai thought, since he could find no rhyme or reason for it. But eventually he made the connection.

Lord Shastine was a phantom master, rarely showing her face in the workshop. The only time she indicated an interest in him was when she came to inspect a find. And the greater the praise she showered on Mordivai, the harsher the punishment would be the next day from Skiro. Finally it all made sense.

Perhaps Skiro thought that Mordivai, a mere slave, wasn’t deserving of the lord’s attention, or more likely, he was simply angry that a slave could have greater skill than he. Skiro could not read any of the ancient languages, not even the older forms of Galactic Standard. Nor did he have the eye for detail that Mordivai possessed. Mordivai suspected that he hated being outshone by a “lesser” being.

Mordivai also made friends with Ai’lanynn, or tried to, given that he only saw her for mere minutes a day. She was the only friendly face in his life, the only one who called him by name or who smiled at him. Mordivai found that one of the more difficult parts of his new slave life, besides the endless, mind-numbing boredom, was loneliness. Ai’lanynn appeared to be a few years older than he, with a plain face but an infectious smile. She even took the trouble to ask him what foods he liked, and then attempted to bring him his requests, if possible. He looked forward to her visits each day.

As the months wore by, Mordivai grew bolder with his time. He was left alone, so he began to take two hours out of each day to practice his combat forms. It was the only remnant of his Jedi life that he possessed, and he didn’t want to lose it. Once only did he make the mistake of taking practice time too close to mid-day, and he heard the door unlocking with barely enough time to toss aside the broom handle he’d been using to represent a lightsaber. He couldn’t have looked guiltier of being up to something when Ai’lanynn entered. He froze in the center of the room, breathing hard, his hair coming loose from its tie.

Ai’lanynn stopped when she saw him, and a mischievous smile cross her face. “”What have you been up to now Mordivai?”

“I...uh, I do exercises sometimes.” He shrugged his shoulders. “You know, stuck in here all day. You won’t tell Skiro will you?”

“Oh, gosh of course not.”

After that he was more careful and relegated his practice sessions to one hour in the morning and one in the evening, both after Ai’lanynn had brought him his meals. It wasn’t the same without a dueling partner, but it was better than nothing. I won’t forget who I am. I am a Jedi. He found he had to tell himself those words more and more often in order to get his mind to keep believing them.

00o00

One day, Mordivai found something truly unusual. The crates that arrived from Korriban always contained fragments, but this time, Mordivai found a larger piece buried amongst the usual rubble. Mordivai knew as soon as he picked it up that it was special.

It was a tablet fragment, covered on both sides by ancient Sith inscriptions, and it whispered to him of dark power. For a long moment, Mordivai just held it in his hands, feeling the power calling out to be grasped, to be used, to be owned. How much more powerful would this piece have been when it was once intact? He set it aside, knowing that he had to treat this new development with care.

The next day, when Skiro arrived to bring new crates, Mordivai made sure the tablet was left sitting out on the end of the table where Skiro would be sure to see it. Skiro noticed it immediately and picked it up, his eyes widening.

“What is this?”

“Too large a fragment to be in one of my crates,” Mordivai said casually, not even bothering to look up. “It must have been overlooked.”

“Indeed.” Skiro set it aside on one of the shelves. “I will take care of this.”

Mordivai knew that Skiro would take credit for this find, but at least he would avoid punishment. He was learning.

00o00

Mordivai began making a habit out of sitting out on top of the workshop roof on nights when it wasn’t raining. He could look out over the compound, past the treetops, and over to the dark jungle beyond. It made him feel a vaguely like a ruler surveying his domain, distant from his problems. He stared at Lord Shastine’s great house. In another life he might have visited a place like this as a guest himself, and been welcomed as a lord. The child that he used to be would have felt cheated by that thought, but now Mordivai thought of that almost-life as an abyss that he had just barely escaped falling into. He could have been happy as a Jedi, he decided, although the guilt that he felt for abandoning his family’s Sith legacy still haunted him.

One of Dromund Kaas’s heavy rainstorms was only minutes away, the approaching thunder growling from behind the clouds, growing ever louder. The air was as thick as sludge, so misty that it left a sheen of moisture over Mordivai’s skin. It was time to get back inside.

From far below, across the lawn, Mordivai saw the door to Shastine’s house fly open, and Ai’lanynn tumbled out, tripping backwards, her hands held out defensively in front of her. Skiro bolted through the door next, advancing on her, his arm pulled back over his shoulder in preparation for a blow. He swung and she threw up a hand to shield her face, but her foot skidded off the top step of the landing and she fell backwards and rolled down the stairs. Mordivai leapt to his feet, outrage curling his hands into fists. Skiro’s voice carried across the lawn, harsh and angry.

“Couldn’t leave it well enough alone, could you? You had to go and make it worse!”

Ai’lanynn had fallen back against the dirt, her head slamming back hard enough that Mordivai heard the thump from his perch on the roof. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” she sobbed. “It was an accident!”

Skiro drew back his foot and kicked her in the ribs. She tucked her legs up and curled inward on herself, her cries reverberating off the walls of the manor in echoes. Skiro stepped back, his chest visibly heaving and stomped back up the stairs.

“Sleep in the mud tonight! Where you belong.” He went inside and slammed the door.

Ai’lanynn slowly gathered herself up and limped over to the porch. She got down on her hands and knees and crawled, with obvious difficulty, underneath a small gap there.

Mordivai jumped off the workshop roof, using Force power to cushion his landing. He sprinted across the lawn, slowing to a trot as he neared the house. It was quiet now, and if he hadn’t seen it himself, he never would have known that an altercation had taken place here only moments earlier. He squatted next to the gap where he had seen Ai’lanynn scurry inside.

She was huddled under the porch, her knees drawn up to her chest and her eyes blinking back at him.

“Mordivai! How did you get out here?”

He shrugged. “Skiro must have forgotten to lock the door tonight. Are you ok?”

“I’ll bruise, but no biggie. Skiro’s handed out worse.”

Mordivai wondered how often Skiro had beaten her. The thought kindled his anger into a bigger flame. “He needs to get a beating of his own.”

“You better get back inside before those clouds open up.”

“You could come back to the workshop, instead of sleeping out here.”

“Well…” Hope brightened in her eyes but then she sobered. “Just as long as I’m back under the porch by dawn.” She began crawling towards him. He held out his hand as she emerged and drew her to her feet. She paused, bending over to rub her legs and her back, and then nodded. “Ok, let’s go.”

They moved quickly across the open lawn, and Mordivai was only able to breathe easy again once he was at the door to the workshop. It was locked from the outside of course, but Mordivai quickly pulled back the bolt, hoping that Ai’lanynn hadn’t noticed his deception. He didn’t want to give away his secret perch and possible escape route. Not yet anyway.

At that moment, the sky broke into a torrential downpour, so Mordivai quickly ushered Ai’lanynn inside and yanked the door closed. The rain against the metal roof was so loud that it was hard to even talk, so he gestured into the center of the room and bowed to her with a smile. She grinned, lowered herself onto his sleeping pallet and then patted the spot beside her.

Mordivai settled next to her, folding his legs under him. He had only one pallet and the polite thing would be to offer it to her, which would then relegate him to the cold stone floor. So be it, he decided. It was the right thing to do.

He leaned close so she could hear him over the rain. “What happened out there?”

“Yeah, you heard all that, huh? Ugh. I ruined one of Lord Shastine’s expensive dresses in the laundry. Would you believe the whole thing turned pink in the wash? It was a disaster. I tried to wash out the tint, but I damaged the fabric. I should have known better, but I was desperate, you know?”

“Skiro is a jerk.”

She was quiet a moment. “You should pity him if anything.”

“What? How so?”

“Lord Shastine may own us on paper, but Skiro she owns body and soul.”

Mordivai was about to ask what that meant, when Ai’lanynn leaned over and bumped his shoulder with hers. “You’re a good person, Mordivai. Thanks for coming for me out there.”

Mordivai felt himself blushing. “No problem.” She was smiling at him, studying his face with a greater notice than she had ever shown him before.

“Is Shastine your first master?”

Mordivai nodded. The question grated on him. A slave. With a master. Was this the rest of his life?

“She’s my third. First, I was a hutt’s dancer.”

“Really?” Mordivai immediately regretted showing such surprise in his voice.

She smiled and gestured to her legs. “I wasn’t always like this, you know.”

“What happened?”

“There was a shootout at Choggaro’s place and I got hit by some stray blaster fire. Got me in the spine. I was paralyzed.” She swung her head, her lekku tossing behind her, and gave Mordivai a direct look. “It was the scariest thing in my life. I was helpless. Useless to Choggaro since I sure couldn’t dance or entertain clients. He was about to sell me to a breeder. That’s when Dizon bought me. He was one of my regulars. He was good to me...fixed me up with an implant in my back so I could walk again. Let me be his housekeeper, with some benefits of course.” She laughed, not sounding put out by that at all. “But then he died.”

“That’s awful.”

“Yeah, he got caught in a bust. All those implants that he dealt in were illegal, you know. Not that I ever asked.”

“And then you came here?”

“Yup. Skeezy Skiro bought me.” She laughed. Mordivai marveled that she could retain her sense of humor through a life of slavery.

She turned and ran a finger across his forehead, drawing back a strand of his hair. “You have to take your joy where you can, Mordivai.”

Then she leaned in and kissed him.

This took him completely off guard and he froze. She sat back again and broke into a smile. “Stars, you are cute when you blush.”

Mordivai groaned, covering his face. “Stop.”

She touched his cheek, gently turning him to face her, and kissed him again. This time he opened his mouth to her, shyly at first, sharing in the kiss. She stroked his tongue with hers, her mouth hot and wet, and oh stars it was already more than he could handle. It had been years since he had last kissed anyone and he was amazed he even remembered how. Take your joy where you can, he thought. _Yes. I can be on board with that._ A pulse of pleasure flooded through his groin, making even the faintest brush of fabric against his skin there feel like a lick of flame.

She withdrew and he leaned forward, sliding his arm around her to bring her close again, his mouth still seeking hers. She chuckled in her throat and touched a hand to his chest.

“Easy tiger.”

His eyes flew open, and he felt his face filling with heat again. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she said. Her hands grabbed the base of her shirt and she peeled it off in one smooth motion and oh, by the Force she was wearing nothing underneath. Mordivai swallowed hard, feeling like he needed to catch his breath. Her hand pressed against his chest again, slowly pushing him back onto the pallet while the rest of her crawled forward, her legs straddling either side of his body. He laid back, a willing slave now to whatever she wanted of him. 

At some point he went from admiring her naked form to squeezing his eyes shut in pleasure while she nuzzled his neck and nibbled his ear, her hands splayed across his abdomen, her fingers trailing lower. He let out a tight moan of frustration when she got up, depriving him of the heat of her body, but then he realized that she was divesting herself of the remainder of her clothes. Mordivai’s body had never felt more full or ready, but he balked just the same, a feeling of near panic stealing over him as he realized what was about to happen. He had never done this. What if he made a fool of himself?

Ai’lanynn settled herself on top of him again, and her fingers slid under the waistband of his pants, gently tugging them off his hips. He must have made some kind of noise of desperation, because suddenly she stopped and her eyes rose to meet his.

“Mordivai.” Somehow she made his name sound like a caress. “Is this your first time?”

Mordivai felt his breath release in a rush, and he let his head fall back against pallet. He stared at the ceiling, too embarrassed to meet her gaze.

“Is it that obvious?”

She laughed, but it was gentle. “I can recognize these things. Just relax and enjoy it, ok? Your body knows what to do.”

She finished peeling his pants off and slid on top of him again, her mouth finding his, while one of her hands quested lower. She lifted her hips and guided him into position and then, oh yes, she was lowering herself onto him, her body enveloping him, until he was buried inside her, consumed by her, no devoured, as helpless as a whimpering kitten.

She began to move, her body writhing in a sinuous rhythm, and soon Mordivai felt compelled to match it with a rhythm of his own, yes, like that, just stronger now, yes, a little faster, and next he knew his eyes were rolling back into his head and he thought he would go mad. _No peace, only passion,_ a voice whispered in his head. _The natural way of things, yes._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading and don't be afraid to share your comments!


	9. Secrets and Revelations

“Good, good.” Lord Shastine peered into each bin, nodding with approval.

“There is only this,” Skiro said. He held out the tablet that Mordivai had found a day earlier. “I think it’s old Sith, but I wasn’t sure. I will find you someone to translate it if you wish, my lord.”

Mordivai bit his tongue. He was not supposed to speak unless spoken to, but if Lord Shastine found out that he was useful to her in other ways, perhaps he would get more challenging work. It might even be worth the inevitable punishment from Skiro.

“I can read and translate old Sith, my lord.”

Skiro spun around, his eyes flashing. “You have spoken out of turn, slave.” He bolted forward and Mordivai flinched in preparation for the blow, but Lord Shastine threw out her hand and Skiro stumbled backward as if she had pushed him.

“Did you know this Skiro? That my slave has this skill?”

“No, my lord. It was not listed among his skills when I purchased him. He could be lying.”

“Or maybe you were just lax in making sure this slave was put to the most efficient use. I am displeased with you.”

“I’m s-sorry, my lord. I-”

A bright flash of light emanated from Shastine’s fingertips and Skiro jerked backwards, his body briefly enveloped in a web of bright lightning.

“Go outside and wait for me.”

He scurried out. Shastine watched him leave, then turned her eyes on Mordivai.

“You will translate this tablet for me. However long it takes. Then you will come to me and show me your work.”

“Yes, my lord.”

She held out the tablet and Mordivai took it. Her cheeks broke into rosy dimples as she flashed him a smile.

“I look forward to seeing what you discover.”

She left and Mordivai crept over to the wall. There was a missing bolt in the metal plates here that he sometimes used as a peep hole. He pressed his eye against it now and looked out. Skiro was kneeling at Lord Shastine’s feet, staring at his clasped hands. Mordivai couldn’t hear his words, but he appeared to be speaking urgently and with feeling. Shastine tossed her head dismissively, said something, and then turned and walked away. Skiro dropped his head into his hands and then slowly got to his feet to follow her. Mordivai recalled what Ai’lanynn had said about Skiro. What was their relationship exactly?

Mordivai sat next at his worktable with the tablet in front of him. Chunks of the tablet were broken off and missing, which would make translation difficult, and Mordivai was rusty. It had been years since he had read old Sith. He stared at the tablet and the words swarmed before his eyes. There was Force power in this artifact, and Mordivai wondered if a non-Force sensitive could even read it at all. Did Lord Shastine know this? It was a moot point now. Mordivai would do what she asked. The consequences were out of his control.

He lightly touched the tablet, feeling the tingle of power within it rising as if summoned. A dark, seductive energy infused it, and Mordivai leaned forward, staring at the ancient letters which seemed to dance and glow the more he studied them. “The dark, ancient power of the Sith is dangerous to harness,” he heard Master Gatten’s voice repeating in his head. “It will twist your mind and your heart. Be careful what you think you long for, Mordivai.”

Mordivai sat back and took a few deep breaths. His job was to translate, nothing more.

For hours he lost himself in his work. It felt good at first to exercise his brain again doing something worthy of his intellect. As night fell, however, he began to grow tired. Skiro would have him up early in the morning as always, and his days were long. He grew nervous, hoping he could finish before his mind became too hazy for coherent thought. He had to stop and go over his work again from the beginning when he realized that he had been mistranslating a word, and then was forced to check to make sure he hadn’t confused any other meanings. At last, he felt the work was finished, or to the best of his ability anyway. It would have to be enough.

He rose from the table. It was late, very late. But Lord Shastine had said to come to her immediately. He waffled with indecision, debating how to interpret her instructions. He finally decided that a literal interpretation would be best. He approached the workshop door. Would it even be unlocked?

It was.

He stepped out into the night, feeling the air blanket him in its humid heat. The grass left dew on his sandals and dampness on his toes as he crept across the wide lawn. The house stood like an imposing fortress at the far end, the few lights from inside lighting the windows like eyes. He stepped up the porch stairs, his sandals scuffing softly against each step. He stood uncertainly at the door. There was a button there to ring for entrance. His finger hovered over it a moment and then he pressed it.

There was no sound, indeed no sign at all that his presence had been announced to anyone, but after a few moments the door opened and Ai’lanynn stood on the other side, blinking sleepily at him. Behind her, he could see a small tangle of blankets where she slept by the door.

“Mordivai!” Her eyes were wide and her voice hushed. “Did the lord summon you?”

“She did.”

“I’ll let her know you are here then. Come in and wait by the door.”

Mordivai stepped inside. It was dark and it took for few moments for several large, hulking shadows to resolve themselves into furniture. Ai’lanynn padded quietly away and Mordivai was left alone. He waited, idly studying a painting that appeared to depict one of the many tombs on Korriban. A creaking on the floor nearby redirected his attention and he looked over to see Ai’lanynn waving him in.

“Lord Shastine will see you now. Up the lift and to the right.”

Mordivai followed her directions, then turned and approached a door that he now recognized as the one he had been to on his first visit into the manor. Lord Shastine’s bedroom.

Before he could raise his hand to engage the intercom, there was a quiet scuffling to his left. He turned and saw Skiro outlined in the shadows. He was shirtless and leaning over a side table, supporting himself with his arms. He looked up, and Mordivai was startled to see that Skiro was shaking noticeably, his arms twitching. Skiro met his eyes briefly and then looked away.

“She is expecting you,” he said, his voice sounding strangely thick and slow. “Better get to it.”

Mordivai nodded and hit the intercom switch. “I am here with the tablet my lord.”

There was a brief moment of silence and then the door swished open. Mordivai reluctantly stepped inside.

Lord Shastine was sitting in bed wearing a frilly night robe and slippers, her hair a halo of tossed curls. She beamed at him and beckoned him closer, letting out a squeal of delight.

“Oh! I hope you have something exciting for me. Hurry up now, and bring it over.”

Mordivai stepped closer, stopping at the edge of the bed, then held out the tablet in one hand, and the datapad with his translation with the other. She set the tablet next to her on the bed and snatched up the datapad, gripping it with both hands and looking it over hungrily. “Ohhh,” she breathed. “This is _magnificent_.”

Mordivai waited uncomfortably while she poured over the datapad, a childlike grin stretching across her face. “Yes, yes, it’s exactly what I thought. Oh, this is...this is just grand!” She looked up, her eyes shining. She set down the datapad and rose from the bed. Mordivai began to back away.

“Stay where you are slave. I want to get a better look at you.”

Mordivai bowed his head and resisted the urge to shrink away as she came close. She stretched up on the tips of her toes, studying him far too closely for comfort.

“Take down your hair.”

Mordivai’s hair had not been cut in nearly a year, and was now past his shoulders. He normally kept it clipped back at the nape of his neck, but now he slowly reached back and released the clasp.

Shastine breathed a sigh of pleasure, reaching up next to run her hands through his hair, pulling it forward and fanning it out across his shoulders.

“Where did you get your beautiful red hair, I wonder?” There was a new tone in her voice that Mordivai did not like.

“You can read old Sith...you have this wonderful Sith-red hair. I wonder...just wonder now...in the back of my mind...if you are _hiding_ something from me.” The edge in her voice was growing sharper. “Where is that accent from anyway? I cannot place it. Not Imperial. But not Republic either.”

“My-my parents travelled a lot with me when I was a child. My mother has red hair too.”

“And where did you learn to read old Sith? Surely not in the _Republic_.”

“I...I knew a Pureblood...who defected.” That much was true at least. “He taught me.”

“Hmm. Interesting. You are a little mystery. I wonder what other skills you have been keeping from me?”

Mordivai was spared the agony of fashioning a reply. Lord Shastine pivoted on her heel fast as a blur and waved her arm at the door. It slid open with a bang.

“Skiro,” she said. “Stop lurking against the door and come join us. You’ll get a better view this way.” She smirked and Skiro stumbled forward, his face dark with embarrassment at having been caught eavesdropping. He inched into the room and stood against the far wall, his eyes wide as a gizka’s.

Shastine turned back to Mordivai. “Dear Ras’kir’oan here-” Mordivai assumed that was Skiro’s full name, “-is being punished. He is twice the man that you are,” she raked her eyes down Mordivai’s body, “and you are barely out of boyhood. But he needs to be taught a lesson. And I am curious now. So _curious_.”

Her long fingers, made even longer by her painted nails, eased open the buttons on Mordivai’s shirt. She snaked a hand underneath the fabric, caressing him and pushing the shirt off his shoulders. Mordivai suppressed a shiver as her nails lightly drew circles over his skin. She giggled.

“My, you are a skinny thing! Is every part of you so, hmm, long and sinuous?” Her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks and she gave Mordivai a searing look of such naked desire that he jerked backward.

His shirt fell to the floor, nearly tripping him. Shastine snatched at the beltline of his pants, her fingers curling inside his waistband, and yanked him forward. Her pretty face puckered into a pout.

“You don’t need to be afraid,” she said, her voice girlish and sweet like candy. Too sweet, Mordivai thought, too teasing, and he wondered if she meant the opposite of what she said. Mordivai snuck a glance at Skiro huddled in the corner. His eyes were wide, his face clearly pained. _He is infatuated with her_ , Mordivai realized. _And terrified. Of what exactly?_ Shastine must have caught the direction of Mordivai’s gaze, because she paused and turned to look at Skiro as well.

“Get on the bed, Skiro.”

Skiro’s throat bobbed visibly as he swallowed and suddenly he threw himself prostrate on the floor.

“My lord,” he said, his voice cracking, “please don’t do this. Not with the slave here. I beg you.”

“Oh, you’ll be begging all right.” Shastine tittered and then turned back to Mordivai. “This is Skiro’s punishment, remember. Just do as I say, and we’ll make him squeal.”

From behind her, Mordivai caught a glimpse of Skiro moving across the floor towards the bed, his shoulders slumped. Mordivai shifted his gaze and saw Shastine watching him.

“Oh, you sweet, innocent thing,” she said, cupping his cheek. “You don’t understand, do you?”

Mordivai froze, afraid to even move. Shastine was rubbing her hand along the outside of his pants, coaxing him to life with her touch, making his body a traitor to his will.

“Don’t you want to see Skiro laid low? After all he’s done to you...He enjoys tormenting you, you know. But now it’s _your_ turn.”

From the bed Mordivai heard Skiro choke out a groan.

Skiro seemed to know what awaited him. Had Shastine done this to him before? What was Mordivai’s role going to be in all this? He had assumed at first that she wanted to bed him and make Skiro watch, but now he suspected that she had something even more sinister in mind, or would she be the one doing the watching?

He was easing backwards again. “I can’t…I can’t do this…” He feared to raise his voice above a whisper.

Shastine pressed against him, her hand slipping inside the waistband of his pants and down between his legs.

“Oh, yes you _can_. Your body proves that well enough.” She smirked and gave him a knowing look from under her lashes. Then she raised her voice to call to Skiro behind her. “Take off your clothes, Ras’kir’oan.” She turned back to Mordivai, her face eager.

“You too…” She began to push his pants down off his waist.

Mordivai didn’t realize that he was still moving backwards until he bumped his back against the wall.

“No,” he said. Then louder, “I won’t.”

Shastine laughed. “You dare refuse me? Do you have a death wish?”

“I won’t do this.”

Her laugh died on her lips and a fire kindled in her eyes. She bit her lip and frowned. “You will regret saying that, slave.”

Pain lit into Mordivai’s every limb and he grit his teeth to stifle a cry. Lightning streaked over his body, the sizzle of it loud in his ears. There was a brief pause, which Mordivai used to catch his breath, and then it started again. Mordivai slipped to his knees, and then to his hands, and finally he curled up on the floor, knowing that sounds were coming out of his mouth, but unable to hear his own cries.

_You are a Jedi!_ a voice chided him. _Defend yourself!_

Mordivai forced his eyes to open. Shastine was standing over him, her face stilled into a grimace, light streaking from her fingertips. Force power gathered within him, a light to counteract her darkness, building to a crescendo. Mordivai gasped for breath, mustering his strength, and threw out his hand, directing all his power at Shastine.

She was lifted off her feet, the lightning dying from her hands as she was caught in a bubble of Force energy, her face frozen in a look of shock and rage. It had been so long since Mordivai had called upon the Force that the feeling was draining and more of an effort than he had been expecting. He felt his conviction wavering, and then his hold on Shastine let go, dumping her into a heap on the floor.

She screamed in rage and Mordivai reached out with his mind for the first thing he saw - a hairbrush lying on her dresser. He flung his hand from the brush towards Shastine and it jumped from the bureau, sailed through the air, and smacked her in the back of the head. Emboldened, Mordivai began hurling everything his Force power could lift at her: shoes, a small statue on her nightstand, a footstool. She threw her hands over her head as objects pelted her from all sides, shrieking in surprise.

Then Mordiavi saw something else -- her lightsaber sitting on a nearby desk. He called it to him, vaulted to his feet and ignited the blade with a hum.

“You trickster!” Shastine spat, her voice dripping with unbridled hate. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

Mordivai gripped the hilt of the lightsaber, brandishing it before him and reading his stance. “I am Mordivai Quinn, of the Jedi Order, and a slave to you no longer!” 

She laughed. “Are you what passes for a Jedi these days?” Without warning, an arc of lightning forked out from her fingertips and Mordivai blocked the assault with the blade. Again and again it came, and Mordivai felt himself moving into a zone of heightened concentration, his mind anticipating her moves and his reflexes taking over. Her face twisted furiously, and Shastine spun and threw out her hand towards the bed. Another lightsaber flew out from under her pillow and shot into her hand.

The red glow of the saber lit her cheeks in crimson. “Go ahead. Take me on, little Jedi.” There was something horrific about the sneer on her cherubic face. “I dare you.”

Mordivai lunged forward and she met his swing blade against blade. Mordivai was constrained by the size of the room, distracted by the furniture and by Skiro kneeling gape-eyed on the bed. Shastine jolted him with shocks of power, her face gleeful. The after-effects of her electric barrage made Mordivai’s muscles twitch, adversely affecting his control. His mind briefly flashed to the image of Skiro shaking outside her door. Had often had Lord Shastine been abusing him?

_Focus_ , he reminded himself. He tried to recall all his teachings, all the combat sessions he’d had with Master Gatten, all the times Master Praven had pushed him to his limit in duels. The Sith woman on the Esseles had almost beaten him and he would not allow that to happen again. Shastine was out to kill him and Mordivai was determined to fight for his life.

Mordivai was rusty in his skills, and he felt vulnerable. He was fighting in a room that was never designed for combat. _Use the terrain to your advantage,_ he heard Praven telling him. _If it’s awkward for you, it’s awkward for your opponent as well._ Shastine was stalking him in a circle, trying to corner him on the side of the room farthest away from the door. The lightsaber spun in his hands, blurring in a swirl of red, and he pushed forward, striking hard and fast like a viper, forcing Shastine onto the defensive. Gatten had often cautioned him against his preference for flashy moves, but this time, it was effective. Shastine was taken off guard, clear surprise registering on her face, and she took repeated steps backwards. Behind her, Mordivai spotted his discarded shirt on the floor, and he thrust a sudden low cut towards her thigh, forcing her to side-step sharply. Her foot tangled in his shirt, and she blundered into the wall. Mordivai let out a cry, swinging fast, and the tip of his saber caught Shastine on the cheek, an unbelievably close call. She slapped a hand to her face in shock.

Shastine’s eyes flicked to the ceiling, and then she pointed a long red nail into the air. There was a sharp pop, and sparks rained down on his head, plunging the room into semi-darkness. Mordivai jumped back, barely dodging a swing aimed for his middle. He twisted on his toes and struck out at her with his opposite foot, swinging hard. The kick knocked her off balance and she fell onto her rump. There was a bureau behind her, and Mordivai yanked it towards her with Force power. It toppled over, but Shastine rolled away seconds before it hit the floor with a resounding crash.

A flash of light seared across Mordivai’s vision then and he felt himself lifted off the floor, the room spinning violently around him, his limbs crackling under a web of Force lightning. For a moment he was helpless, and he expected a killing blow to come at him any moment. Then he was dropped to the floor.

Shastine was shrugging out of her night robe, freeing her arms from the sleeves for better movement. Mordivai gathered Force power in his hands and shot it at her with all his will. She was thrown backwards, clear out the door, where she hit the hallway wall. Her face contorted into a grimace of hate and she made a grabbing motion with her hand. Mordivai felt himself gripped by unseen power and then he was yanked off his feet and propelled towards her. He was headed straight for the outstretched end of her lightsaber, a piercing thrust that would surely be fatal.

Mordivai threw out his arms and arched his back, deliberately forcing himself into a backwards fall. He hit the floor, still moving, and slid at Shastine’s legs, his heels slapping against the wall on either side of her feet. Her face flashed with a wicked smile and she stomped her foot towards his groin. Mordivai shot a wave of Force power directly upwards and her head snapped back as if slapped. He rolled out of the way and leapt to his feet.

He didn’t see the next thing coming. A jolt of sheer Force power blew him off his feet and he flew backwards through the air. The walls of the hallway sped past him and then he was shot out an open balcony door. He had a second to feel lucky that the glass door was open, because he surely would have been cut into ribbons otherwise, but then he saw the balcony railing fly past underneath him as he was blown clear out of the building.

_Oh shit._

He tucked his legs against his abdomen, forcing his body into a mid-air tumble. His feet swung into position underneath him just as he hit the ground.

Shastine was standing at the balcony’s edge, her eyes shooting daggers at him.

“Die Jedi!” she shrieked.

A barrage of lightning streaked towards him, and Mordivai had only a second to reignite his lightsaber and thrust it before his face to block it.

The lightning paused as she readied her power for another blast and Mordivai decided to push ahead with an attack of his own. He began ripping metal roof tiles off the top of the building and hurling them at her like a rain of blaster fire. When she threw up her hands to shield herself, he pulled her forward with the Force, tipping her body over the balcony railing. She flailed a moment, her arms wheeling in the air, and then she toppled and fell.

She tried to force her body into a spin like he had, but her balance was off and she landed awkwardly, one leg buckling underneath her. Her face deformed into a grimace and she held out her hands to strike him with Force lightning again. Her fingertips sparked ineffectually and then the power died from her hands.

Mordivai walked forward and held his lightsaber under her chin. It was over.

Suddenly, his head burst into a rays of pain. Blinding, teeth-clenching pain. Something hit him and he was thrown backwards in the dirt. Standing over him was the shape of a man, his thumb poised over a shock collar button. Skiro.

“You bastard,” Mordivai managed.

Skiro’s smirk was triumphant, the sole of his boot still planted in the middle of Mordivai’s chest. He glanced at Shastine. “The kill is yours, my lord.”

Mordivai almost didn’t recognize Lord Shastine’s voice, it was so distorted by pain. But the mirth was there even still.

“No. I want this one to stay a slave. My little Jedi slave.” She sputtered a high-pitched laugh. “Get me a Force-dampening collar, Skiro.”

As Mordivai lay in the dirt, Ai’lanynn’s words came back to him. She owns him, body and soul. He stared into Shastine’s wild-eyed countenance and saw madness there. And he was afraid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays, everyone!


	10. A Futile Effort

Mordivai was chained to the porch for the rest of the night, tethered by his new Force-dampening collar like a misbehaved pet. He was given food and water in the morning, but it was in bowls with no utensils. Ai’lanynn brought the meals out to him, her face apologetic. Mordivai sat with his back against the house wall and refused to look at her.

She knelt at his side, looking around briefly to make sure she wasn’t being watched. “A Jedi,” she whispered. “And to think I’ve known you all this time.”

Mordivai stole her a glance. Her eyes were roaming his face curiously. “You bested Lord Shastine,” she said, clear amazement coloring her voice. “Things may get worse for a while. Be strong.” She stood as if to go but paused and knelt back down again. “You are the bravest person I know, Mordivai.” She kissed him on the cheek and left.

He didn’t feel very brave that night, however. Lord Shastine held a social gathering with two other Sith, one woman and one man, and he was paraded around like a prize in front of them, forced to endure their jesting and listen to hints of all the disturbing things they looked forward to doing to him later that evening. It did not go unnoticed, however, that Shastine was limping and had a fresh wound across her right cheek, whereas Mordivai was unscathed. They had questions and began to probe Shastine for more details of their fight.

“Well, he’s captured here before you isn’t he? That speaks for itself.” Shastine stroked her long nails through his hair as he knelt beside her chair, the chain to his collar in her other hand.

“But he gave you a run for his money, didn’t he?” The male Sith who had spoken was sprawled on a couch, although at the moment, all Mordivai could see of him was his steel-toed black boots. “I wish I could have seen that duel.”

“Oh, why wait ‘til tonight?” the woman said, her voice practically a squeal. “Let’s make him dance with us now. See what he’s capable of. What’s he going to do, anyway? There’s three of us and one of him.”

“Yes,” said the man. His black boots slid together as he rose from the couch and began to walk towards Mordivai. “I like that idea.” He took the chain right out of Shastine’s hand, ignoring her protests, and pulled Mordivai to his feet. Unable to resist, Mordivai snuck a peek upwards at this new Sith. He was middle-aged, tall and wiry, with a long face made more dramatic by two symmetrical tattoos under his eyes and a complete lack of hair. A slow smile was spreading across his face.

“Let’s take his collar off. Have him give us a bit of sport.”

Only Shastine did not seem to share their enthusiasm. “No! What fun would that be, Kertrin? Besides, I don’t want him damaged or we won’t be able to play other games with him later.”

“Shastine,” the man named Kertrin said, dragging her name out long and slow. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you sound _afraid_ of this Jedi.”

“Don’t be silly.”

Kertrin gripped Mordivai’s chain where it joined to his neck and yanked him forward so that his head was almost against Kertrin’s shoulder. He breathed deeply, and Mordivai got the disturbing feeling that he was assessing him somehow, breathing in his very essence and judging its quality.

“Oh, yes,” he said, sighing. “The Force is vibrant within him. But this collar is surely in the way.”

There was a faint clink and the collar fell away, landing on the floor. Kertrin stepped back, a satisfied smile on his face.

“Defend yourself, Jedi.”

With only that warning, Mordivai was thrown back against the wall and pinned there by a surge of dark energy. Kertrin held his hand in the air, slowing clenching his fist and crushing Mordivai’s wind pipe.

“Damn it, Kertrin!” Shastine jumped to her feet. “Not in the house!”

“All right then.” Kertrin dropped his hand and Mordivai fell to the floor. He was slowly climbing to his feet, still trying to process what it meant that he was free of the collar, when Kertrin spoke again, his voice low and menacing.

“You better run, Jedi slave.”

The other woman laughed and threw her hands in the air. Lightning danced across her fingertips.

Mordivai turned and bolted from the room.

_The door, get out the front door._ Mordivai’s feet barely touched the ground as he soared down a hallway. Behind him he could hear Shastine screaming, “Don’t you dare kill him!”

He reached the door and threw himself at it, directing Force energy into his assault, and it blew off its hinges, metal shrieking and groaning as it broke out of shape. There was a yelp nearby and Mordivai spotted Ai’lanynn standing by the door, her hands clapped against her mouth.

How long had it been since he’d not worn a slave collar? Mordivai felt light as air, fear and urgency buoying his strides. He leapt straight over the porch stairs and headed across the lawn.

Next thing he knew, his chin slammed into the ground and he was eating dirt and tasting blood. He tried to move, but it was like running through water. With great effort, he flipped his onto his back, just in time to see Kertrin sailing through the air towards him, looking like he meant to flatten Mordivai’s face into the ground with the soles of his boots.

Mordivai threw out a barrier of Force energy, encircling himself like a bubble, and Kertrin skidded over him ineffectually, disappearing over his head and rolling across the ground behind him. Mordivai limbs were his own again, and he jumped to his feet. Lightning streaked overhead, pelting the earth around him and throwing up dirt. Mordivai dodged each strike as he ran, trying to outdistance the storm. Then a figure materialized in front of him, the other female Sith, her face contorted into a hideous grin of enthusiasm. She stood before him with her hand outstretched, and Mordivai, with no time to stop, blundered headlong into her wall of Force power. He fell to the ground.

He looked up and spotted Shastine a short ways away, her arms outstretched in preparation for another barrage of lightning. There was a lightsaber on her hip.

Mordivai called it to him and it soared easily into his open hand. He jumped to his feet and lit it up with a buzz. All three Sith surrounded him.

“Ohh,” Kertrin said, sounding breathlessly excited. “Our little Jedi has upped the stakes. Tell me again how you captured him Shastine? Seems he’s disarmed _you_ already.”

Kertrin crossed his arms, reaching onto his belt, and two lightsabers came to life in his hands.

“No more of this!” Shastine cried. “I call an end to the game. You’ll damage him.”

The last word had barely left Shastine’s lips when Mordivai was shocked into statis, his limbs freezing up and his body shaking out his control. Shastine’s female friend walked up to him and calmly removed the lightsaber from his hand.

“I would have liked to see you duel him, Kertrin, but Shastine is right.” she said. “I’d rather save him for after dessert.” She laughed, clearly tickled by her own humor.

Kertrin sheathed his lightsabers and held up his hands. “Shastine, you can’t keep a Force-sensitive slave. You know that. He must die.” He paused, and gave Mordivai a wicked look, “Or, he must be sent to Korriban. That is the law.”

“No!” Shastine shook her head emphatically, her prodigious curls bouncing like a doll’s. “You can’t just take him away from me. He’s bought and paid for!”

“Take up your complaint with the slaver who sold him. I’m sure you can get another,” Kertrin said. “Besides, this little Jedi seems rather clever. He might make a fine Sith.”

Minutes earlier, Mordivai couldn’t have imagined a worse fate than to be chained to Shastine as her personal entertainment. But at Kertrin’s words, a dark abyss opened beneath him, and his stomach lurched as if he had already fallen in. _Forced to go to Korriban and become Sith. Or die._

“Delicious,” Kertrin drawled. “Can’t you just taste his fear?”

“You can’t send him away,” Shastine said.

“I have a transport leaving for Korriban tonight with room for additional cargo. I won’t even charge you, Shastine.” He chuckled.

Mordivai felt the panic welling in him like a geyser building in power, like walls closing in, like fear itself taking over his mind. He let out a yell and threw out a wave of Force power in a circle around him. Shastine and the other woman were blown backwards, but Kertrin remained standing. Mordivai tried to run, but an invisible noose appeared around his throat. He hung in the air, kicking madly and clawing at the ring of Force power, his vision getting spotty and his world going dark.

Kertrin approached and came around to face him. His red ringed eyes held his, a terrible smiling curling the corners of his lips. It was the last thing that Mordivai saw before he lost consciousness.

00o00

A Rattataki slave met Mordivai in the hangar bay on Korriban as soon as he stepped off of Kertrin’s transport. Mordivai was led into a back room where more slaves wordlessly helped him into a new set of clothes, which were sturdy yet plain, and fitted him with a pair of well-made boots. They ignored Mordivai’s attempts to question them, refusing to even meet his eye. One of them cut his hair, quickly and with little attention to style, so that where it once reached past his shoulders, it now was chin-length. A slave gave him a scabbard and led him into a weapons store room, where he was handed a pathetic excuse for a vibroblade, with a taped up hilt. Lastly, they removed his collar.

“Better hurry acolyte,” the slave said. “The overseer is waiting for you.”

The slave led Mordivai out a door, then turned and locked the door behind him, leaving Mordivai alone outside in the searing desert heat. A long metal ramp led down onto a dirt trail that quickly disappeared around a towering rock ledge. Mordivai followed it.

He had heard the rumors that the Empire had taken to pulling anyone with Force sensitivity off the streets and thrusting them into training at Korriban, but had not understood the news as literal until that moment. A ragtag band of new acolytes awaited him at gathering point at the end of the trail, all of them dressed as he was and carrying similar weapons. They hardly looked like future Sith; one of them had skin tanned dark from the sun, with a conspicuous white ring around his neck where a slave collar had recently been. Many of them looked malnourished, confused, or openly terrified.

A Sith lord stood in front of the group, with nothing but a vast expanse of desert behind him. There was no sign of the academy.

“Well, here’s our latecomer. Think you are better than the rest of us, Jedi?” The Sith’s face was set in a sneer, and already the eyes of the other acolytes were narrowing at Mordivai in distrust.

“I am Overseer Harkun,” the Sith said. “I’m tasked with sorting through you refuse to determine which ones of you have what it takes to be called Sith. Firstly, however, you have to make it to the academy.” He gestured behind him. “Make it alive across the desert and you will be considered worthy to begin training. Most of you will perish of course. If the Tuk’ata hounds don’t eat your pathetic carcasses, then the Shyracks will probably pick you apart. Anyone who makes it will find me waiting on the other side.”

He kicked at a box at his feet. “In here you will find rations for the night and a few supplies. I’d wish you luck, but I doubt it would do you any good.” He stepped back and nodded at the acolyte closest to the box. “Don’t just stand there now, get moving!”

Inside the box was a mish-mash of supplies thrown together in unequal quantities. Mordivai grabbed some water and a handful of ration bars, but when he went to reach for a small glowrod, it was snatched out from under his grasp by another acolyte, who gave Mordivai a smug twist of her lip. Mordivai grabbed the last of several small belt pouches, which he was pleased to see contained a tiny medkit. He stepped back, content with his picks.

A female voice spoke up. “Overseer, there isn’t enough water for each of us.”

“Well, I expect you’ll have to take one from someone who is less deserving, now won’t you?”

The girl’s face fell and she looked down at her feet, while the others shuffled uncomfortably around her.

“All right,” Harkun announced. “The first six of you go now and get out of my sight. If I can still see you five minutes from now, I will instruct the next six to hunt you down.”

Mordivai was in the second group, forced to wait in the scorching sun while the first six acolytes ran down the ridge and gradually disappeared among the crags and bony rocks of the desert. When at last it was his group’s turn to go, Harken thrust out a hand.

“Not yet, Jedi, not you.”

Mordivai stopped, and one of the other acolytes, the girl with no water, glanced back at him with a look of sympathy before continuing on.

“I have something for you,” Harkun said.

Harkun’s fist swung out so fast, that even Mordivai’s Jedi reflexes weren’t enough to save him from the blow. For a moment there was a bloom of pain across his face and then the sun tilted in the sky. When Mordivai blinked again, he was laying on the ground. He opened and closed his mouth experimentally and decided that nothing had been broken. He would have quite a bruise by tonight however.

“There,” Harkun said, rubbing his hand. “That’s to even the odds a little. Now go away and may the desert swallow you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everyone!


	11. Allies and Enemies

It had been seven years since Mordivai had last set foot on Korriban. The bronze cliffs and red sands were familiar to him from his many visits here as a child. He had been born here in fact, at his mother’s family estate, announced to the world with a welcoming party attended by all the prominent Sith lords. He was heir to a long and proud legacy of Sith going back generations, his success assumed and assured. Did his parents still look for him? Had they given him up for dead? He was a foreign blot on this forbidding landscape now, his breathing the only sound in the desert’s lonely silence. His boots kicked up puffs of dust as he trudged through the valley, and he scanned for patches of shade. The sun’s pounding heat could easily overwhelm a traveler, he knew, and it was best to conserve what energy he could. He decided his best course of action was to wait out the daylight and travel instead during the hours of dusk and dawn, and perhaps find some snatches of sleep in between.

The day was mostly uneventful. Once, he spotted another acolyte on a ledge far below him, eating some rations, and a few times he spotted wraid herds loping about in the distance. He made good strides as the sun was dropping beyond the far ridge, taking advantage of the cooler air and shade to expend some energy, and by the time the darkness began to make his steps too treacherous to see, he had found a short, dry enclosure among a crumbled rock formation. With no glowrod, he didn’t want to risk trying to travel at night, and he knew that some of Korriban’s more viscous creatures were nocturnal. He settled into his tiny cave, had a small bit to eat and drink, and then tried to get some sleep.

He was awoken a short time later by a snuffling around the mouth of his hiding spot. He reached out with the Force and touched a dull mind, vaguely curious and not immediately hostile. Still, he knew of very few creatures that were truly docile here, so he decided to act with caution. When the creature began to creep too close, he was forced to chase it away, yelling and waving his vibroblade, and thankfully, it bounded off, too startled to put up a fight. Mordivai guessed that he had been a Tuk’ata and was grateful that it had not been hungry.

He had a harder time falling asleep after that, especially since his face where Harkun had hit him had begun to ache, but eventually he succumbed to a fitful doze. He was awoken again by a scream tearing through the night air, high-pitched and ragged. He sat up fast enough to slam his head against the low ceiling and crawled to the entrance to listen. The screaming continued, tortuous and prolonged, no longer cries of fright now, but of pain. Mordivai’s heart thudded against his ribs, wishing for the assault to be over. He heard no other sounds, no growling, and the silence of the other attacker made the whole situation that much more disturbing. Was one acolyte attacking another? Was it a beast attack? He could only be sure of one thing, and that was that one less acolyte would be making it to the academy tomorrow.

The night had dragged on further when he was awoken for a third time by the sound of skittering pebbles close by. He froze, all senses on alert. This was no beast. He could sense a hazy and indistinct Force signature, the sign of an untrained Force-user. He grabbed his vibroblade and slipped out of his hiding place.

The desert had transformed into a different place at night. It was chilly and alive with sounds. A breeze had kicked up, whistling through a nearby canyon, and night insects gathered in pockets of iridescent light, moving slowly like amorphous clouds through the valley below. Mordivai gripped the hilt of his vibroblade and scanned the area for signs of life.

There was a flicker of movement to his right, close to him, too close, and he struck out at it with a low kick. He hit his mark, toppling the intruder, who landed in the dirt with a thud. Mordivai held the body under his boot and swung his vibroblade close.

“Wait!” cried a female voice. In the dim light, he saw a human shape waving her hands in the air in the universal sign of surrender. “I mean you no harm! You’re the Jedi, aren’t you?”

Mordivai released his foot, but kept the vibroblade out before him.

“I am. What do you want?”

“I just...I thought I’d be safer near you...after that...that horrible screaming, you know. I didn’t mean to bother you. I was just going to sleep out here.”

“You shouldn’t have snuck up on me like that.”

“I know. I’m sorry. Look, I have a glow rod. Can I get it out?” She sat up slowly and fished into a pocket. A moment later, a pale green light emitted from her hands, casting the ground in a sickly glow. Mordivai recognized her immediately as the acolyte who had complained about getting no water. He felt no hostility coming from her, only apprehension. He lowered his blade.

“What’s your name?”

“I’m Kory.”

“Mordivai. Let’s get inside. We shouldn’t stay out here.”

He led her into his tiny cave, more like a crawl space really, and she lay down by the far wall, staring at him with what Mordivai guessed was a mixture of awe and disbelief.

“You want some water?” He had been carefully rationing his water supply, but after a long day in the dry desert, he knew this girl needed it now much more than he did.

“Oh stars, yes.” She snatched it out of his hand and began guzzling. Finally, she gasped and wiped her chin. “I’m sorry. I’ll try not to drink any more. Here, you should take this back.”

There was a dark stain slowly pooling under her arm. This was a bad sign. An open wound could attract all sorts of predators.

“You’re hurt.” He reached for his med kit and tossed her a tiny vial of Kolto gel and a small packet of bandages.

“I know. Tuk’ata got me. Or tried to anyway.”

“That wasn’t you though, earlier?”

“The screaming? Oh no. This happened earlier in the day. I don’t know what that screaming was. It sure was awful.” She quieted, occupying herself with bandaging her forearm. When Mordivai saw that she had finished wrapping, he crawled a bit closer.

“I can secure that for you.”

“Thanks.”

Up close, he could see that Kory looked young and had reddish hair a shade lighter than his. A scar crossed her face from one side to the other, dividing it in a diagonal. It was faint now, obviously an old wound. He was reminded then of Zayla the way he had last seen her, with her face bandaged in the Kolto tank. He finished tying and crept back to his spot on the floor.

“You should try and sleep. As soon as the sun rises, we need to get moving again.”

“I can travel with you then? Oh, stars, thank you so much.”

“Actually, Harkun’s little experiment would have backfired on him if only all of us had banded together from the start. But I guess cooperation isn’t a Sith trait.”

Kory yawned and flopped back against the dirt. “Well, he can’t kill us all, can he?” She closed her eyes, appearing not to expect a response.

Mordivai didn’t feel confident about this girl’s future on Korriban. She was too open, too trusting, and her Force powers felt weak and unkindled. A protective instinct made Mordivai want to help her, however. She didn’t deserve to be here and he hoped that somehow she would find a way to survive.

The next morning, Mordivai set out again with Kory. He was tired and stiff, and thirsty now too. His eye had swollen shut, disrupting his depth perception, which he assumed had been Harkun’s intent all along. Kory was obviously favoring her sword arm and the blood was beginning to soak through the bandage. She kept pace with him without complaint, but he knew she was hurting and that the wound needed stitching. Of course the med kit had been devoid of painkillers.

They encountered a few Shyracks once when passing under a dark overhang, and Mordivai dispatched them with relatively minor effort. Kory appeared to have some rudimentary skill in Force manipulation, and was able to take the largest Shyrack out of the fight in a bubble of Force stasis while Mordivai took care of the rest.

They were forced to travel through midday. Time was slipping away and Mordivai began to fear that if they didn’t make it by tonight, their chance of survival in the desert would drop significantly. He pushed them hard those last few hours, and at last they were rewarded by the sight of two huge sandstone statues in the distance. The Academy.

A few hours later, Mordivai stood in Harkun’s office with four other acolytes, all that remained of their cadre of new recruits. With Mordivai were two men, one whom he recognized as being the former slave, and one other woman besides Kory, who he also recalled as the acolyte who had so gleefully snatched the last glowrod from under him. Mordivai was barely listening to the drivel of insults and discouragement coming from Harkun, when a new figure entered.

“Ah, Ffon, here you are.”

The robed newcomer, a Sith Pureblood, came and stood at Harkun’s side.

“Now, this is what a real Sith looks like,” Harkun said. “Ffon is clearly not the equal of any you, but if you try you may become half the Sith he is. He has been groomed for this role from birth and is a proper Sith in both talent and bloodline. Nothing like you sorry lot. Former Jedi and even slaves!” Harkun wrinkled his nose. “It disgusts me that the Academy has fallen so low as to call you all acolytes alongside Ffon.”

Mordivai was keenly aware of Kory standing next to him, her Force presence fading in and out. Her bandage was openly soaked now, but Harken had made no move to get her medical care or even allow her to sit. She weaved on her feet, blinking and wincing, her face sallow and slick with sweat. Her pain distracted Mordivai and made his dislike of Harkun stronger by the minute.

Harkun dismissed Ffon, whose only purpose at this meeting apparently had been to highlight the rest of their failures. “So, first item of business,” Harkun continued, “is to weed out the pathetic from the capable. Kory, step forward.”

Kory wavered on her feet, but managed to approach Harkun while remaining upright.

“You are a weak excuse for a sentient being and never should have survived the desert trek here.”

Lightning shot from Harkun’s fingertips, and Kory was engulfed in a flash of dark side power. She let out a strangled cry, jerked briefly and then collapsed to the ground. Still, Harkun continued his barrage of lightning long past the stage when she had fallen still, only relenting when her death was assured. Mordivai looked up from her body, stunned, and saw Harkun watching him, the faintest smile playing across his face.

“Keep that in mind before you take on any more pet projects, Jedi. You do not do anyone any favors by indulging such weakness.”

00o00

Mordivai was was left to muddle his way through the the hallways of Korriban, where eventually he found a med center, a cafeteria and the dormitories. He was not assigned a room, but neither were any of the other acolytes. In the end it was a free-for-all turf war. The bedroom doors only locked from the inside, and Mordivai discovered that if he wanted any privacy or ownership over his space, he needed to defend his room choice from hostile take-overs.

At night he bolted the door and during the day he sealed it with a ring of Force power. Neither method was strong enough to deter a truly determined intruder, but it marked the room with his signature and declared it as taken, and Mordivai hoped that would be enough. He learned this the hard way when his med kit was stolen from his room on the second day, and also when he discovered an unwelcome visitor.

He recognized her as Rabinya, the one female acolyte left from his original cohort. She was the only person among them who acted genuinely pleased to be at Korriban. Mordivai had heard that she had been a destitute street urchin before her Force sensitivity was discovered, and for her the academy must have felt like a step up in the world. She was hungry for power and eager to prove herself. Mordivai suspected her as the thief of his med kit.

He expected to find her sniffing about for more things to filch, but instead he walked in to see her lounging comfortably on his bed.

“What are doing here?” He stopped in the center of the room.

“Mordivai, right? You’re the Jedi.”

Mordivai gave a begrudging nod of acknowledgement, already displeased that she had avoided answering his question.

“I’m Rabinya.” She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Korriban must be tough for you.”

The last thing Mordivai wanted from his fellow acolytes was sympathy. He said nothing. If she was trying to trap him into something, she wasn’t going to get it.

She slid off the bed and slunk towards him. “I can only imagine how your life must have been before coming here. So many rules, so many _restrictions._ ” She tossed her head and rolled her eyes, affecting exasperation. She was standing close now, so close that Mordivai could see the intricate weavings on her long braided hair. “But now you are finally free to do whatever you want.”

She pulled the end of her braid over her shoulder, fingering it absentmindedly while her dark eyes caught his. “We don’t have to be at odds you know. I can help you.”

“I doubt that.”

“We can be friends, or maybe even more than friends.”

“I’m not interested in making friends, of any kind.”

“Aren’t you the least bit curious? About what you’ve been missing? About all the freedoms you could enjoy as a Sith?”

She touched a finger to his chest drew it down towards his stomach. Mordivai stepped backwards.

Mordivai’s mother had taken particular pride in the fact that she had turned several Jedi in her lifetime. Gatten would have called it “corruption,” but his mother called it “freedom.” This acolyte though, she was a mockery of a Sith. Mordivai had no doubt that her amateurish attempt to seduce him was nothing more than an opportunity for her to secure bragging rights on having been the first to corrupt the resident Jedi.

This is exactly what the overseers wanted; for the acolytes to turn on each other and weed themselves out of the Academy. Rabinya was merely a slave to their manipulation. 

“You shouldn’t have bothered coming here,” Mordivai said. “You talk of freedom but you know nothing about what it means to be Sith.”

She laughed. “And you do? Tell me, Jedi, what does it _‘mean to be Sith?’_ ”

Mordivai closed his mouth. He had no plans to give away his identity here. News of his becoming a Jedi would bring great shame upon his family and he did not want them to suffer. Perhaps his parents were misguided, or ignorant of the light, but they were not evil.

He went to the door and opened it. “I want you to leave now.”

“You’re making a mistake,” Rabinya said. “You may regret turning away a potential ally.”

He held the door open. She gave him a lingering look and sauntered out.

The next day, he came back to his room to find a different acolyte waiting for him, this one leaning on the wall outside his door.

“Wydr,” Mordivai said. “Or is it Balek?” Wydr and Balek were twin brothers. They would have looked identical except for the fact that one of them had skin tanned brown from the sun, while the other was much paler. This was the pale one, but Mordivai still wasn’t sure which name belonged to whom.

“Balek,” the acolyte answered. Mordivai had already pegged the tan one, Wydr then, as being the more dim-witted, while this one had a cunning look in his eye. Still, Mordivai expected he was simply another form of brute, the kind that frequently assumed his build and bulk could easily overpower someone of Mordivai’s stature. Mordivai looked forward to proving him wrong.

Balek pushed away from the wall and stood in front of Mordivai’s door, blocking entry. Mordivai stopped in front of him and met his gaze square on, ready for the challenge. Acolytes were not supposed to duel outside the practice ring, but Mordivai had already heard of some acolytes inexplicably going missing, and the Sith lords in charge enforced the safety rules sporadically at best.

Balek was not adopting the threatening stance of someone asking for a confrontation, however. Instead he gave Mordivai a sly smile and slid his hand along the door frame, leaning against it with an almost casual air.

“Rabinya tells me that she visited you yesterday.”

“I don’t care for visitors.”

“She says you refused her. I told her that maybe you just didn’t have the right kind of persuasion.”

Now Mordivai understood where this was going. “You all can quit your little game. I’m not going to play.”

Mordivai sent a trickle of Force power to the door, unsealing it, and it popped open. Balek was forced to catch himself before he fell backwards into the room.

“I heard you were a slave too. Is it true?” Balek asked. “My brother and I were slaves as well. Wydr was a laborer, but I was...a different kind of slave.”

“I’m sorry to hear it,” Mordivai said flatly. He pushed his way past Balek and into the room. When he tried to close the door though, Balek blocked it, pushing his foot along the floor.

“I’m good at what I do. Perhaps you’ll reconsider.”

“I would have thought that you’d be eager to put that life behind you.”

Balek shrugged. “No use in wasting hard earned skills, is there?”

“I used to sort through ancient Sith refuse piles. That doesn’t mean that I have the desire to go wade through trash compactors now.”

Balek actually chuckled. “I like you, Jedi. Let me tell you something. You are making your life here needlessly difficult. Get off your high throne and come join the rest of us.”

“And you all are just one happy family, right? Rabinya would kill you in Corellian minute if she got the chance. Ffon would need even less time.”

Balek sighed and straightened, removing his body from the door. “None of us stand a chance against Ffon. But I’d bet my cards on you any day. Harkun knows it. We all know it. Ffon knows it too.” He backed away. “Watch your back, Mordivai.”

It was a warning, not a threat. Mordivai gave Balek a respectful nod.

“I am always watching,” Mordivai said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Balek, Wydr and Kory you may recognize as three of the acolytes you start off with in your group at the beginning of the inquisitor story. Balek and Wydr are the twins that try to kill you in the training room, and Kory was killed early on. Rabinya is my creation. And I'm sure we all remember Ffon...


	12. Entombed

That ridiculous runt of a Jedi was causing problems for Harkun. It had been months now and Mordivai had faced down every challenge Harkun had thrown at him, refusing to break or give in, still clinging stubbornly to his precious Jedi Code. He was clearly educated and combat trained already, and his string of successes rankled the other acolytes. Harkun had done his best to fan their jealousy until their hatred of him was a conflagration, making sure that Mordivai’s every moment was hell. There was a deep well of anger in the young Jedi, Harkun could feel it, but Mordivai released it only in tightly controlled bursts in the combat ring, and only when driven to duress. Mordivai was committed to the light, but he was touched by the dark side -- a skeleton in his past? -- although he seemed aware of it and well-schooled in keeping it in check. The dark side in Mordivai was like a star coiled inward on itself, dense and deep. The right trigger was all that was needed to set it alight. Harkun was growing desperate.

Lord Zash needed a new apprentice and expected Harkun to provide one. Ffon was the obvious candidate. Presenting Zash with anything less would be an insult, and a Jedi, even a former one, could never be allowed to come out on top in the end. If Ffon didn’t learn to best Mordivai in the ring and out, it would be an embarrassment for Harjun at best, and possibly the end of his career at worst. Mordivai was a barrier to Ffon’s success, and Harkun had pinned all his hopes on Ffon.

Harkun had taken to giving Ffon extra training sessions, dueling him in practices himself, in the hopes of giving Ffon the edge he needed. Ffon was the only acolyte who could meet Mordivai head on in the combat ring and it was frequently a draw between them. The little Jedi runt was as quick as a whip, willowy and slick like an eel, twisting away from blows that would have caught an average opponent, while sneaking in unexpected attacks of his own. Once, unexpectedly, the girl Rabinya had come close to besting him, but she had done it by playing dirty, a tactic which Harkun didn’t disapprove of, but Mordivai had recovered far too quickly just the same. Harkun decided that he would consider Rabinya as a suitable back-up apprentice for Zash if needed.

“You called for me, Overseer?” Ffon stepped into his office. Harkun missed the days when acolytes like Ffon were the only ones accepted into the academy’s ranks. How could the Jedi boy have even made it this far?

“Mordivai cannot continue to compete with you. He must be eliminated.”

“You want me to kill him?” Eagerness lit Ffon’s eyes, even though his face remained impassive.

“You can’t kill him outright. But if an accident should befall him in the tombs…I don’t care how you do it and I don’t want to know. Enlist the help of the other acolytes if you must. They will band against him with someone to lead them.”

“It will be done, Overseer.”

00o00

The great tomb of Naga Sadow was quiet and cool as Mordivai approached the innermost chamber. He had encountered little resistance on the way in, other than the usual scattering of giant k’lor’ slugs. In past missions, Mordivai had stumbled upon the occasional acolyte also in search of ancient artifacts. Sometimes they ignored each other, but once he had been attacked without warning, and eventually the student had run off once he realized that he was losing the fight. This tomb, however, was out of the way and empty of all sentient life.

He was here to retrieve a map. Mordivai had no idea what the map’s significance was, only that a Sith named Lord Zash wanted it, and that she was watching the latest crop of acolytes carefully, looking for an apprentice from among them. Like many of the ancient Sith tombs, this one was said to be sealed with dark power, and according to the lore, had never been breached. The library held other clues about this place, and it was from there that Mordivai learned that four “keys” were required to enter the sanctum of the tomb. The data translation he had studied also mentioned some Force-eating monster guarding the innermost sanctum. Mordivai had never heard of such a thing, however, even from his mother, and so he decided it was likely a bogus threat.

Mordivai stepped down into a sunken room. Cracks in the ceiling provided the only light, faintly illuminating four large kneeling statues, each bowed forward with their hands on the ground as if making some offering. Three walls of the room were made of the same stone as the rest of the tomb, but the farthest wall had different textured stone in the center with an obvious crack around it. A door.

Mordivai was as prepared as he could be. He had the four keys, rods actually, made from some ancient metal, and he knew that the tomb held another secret as well. There were two entry doors, but only one led into the tomb, whereas the other was false. Mordivai hoped now that he had the correct one. The four rods in the bag slung over his shoulder were getting heavier by the moment. He pulled out the first one and inspected it. It tingled slightly when turned in his hand, as if the jostling stirred up some dark energy stored inside. Mordivai approached the first statue.

Behind the statue were two metal posts with u-shaped ends, clearly designed to cradle a long object the size of the rod. Mordivai laid it into the holder and it snapped in place, accompanied by a sudden but fleeting flash of light which stung Mordivai’s hands. He moved about the room, positioning each of the rods in place.

In the center of the chamber was a raised platform. All the statues appeared to be bowing toward it, but if there had once been a fifth statue it was long gone now. Mordivai stepped onto the dais and ran his foot over the smooth stone. There was no sign of roughness, or any indication that anything else had ever stood here, and Mordivai revised his theory. Perhaps the dais was some kind of altar, but if so, what was supposed to be offered on it?

There was a crackling noise from around him and Mordivai felt the hairs on his head rising as if the air was being charged in an electric current. The four rods were glowing, becoming increasingly bright as if heated, until they began to spark. Realizing the danger he was in, Mordivai started to jump from the dais.

Four bolts of Force lightning hit him at once, rooting him to the floor and turning his vision into a wash of blinding white. He would have screamed but he was paralyzed, forced to endure in silence the agony of pure dark power surging through him. It was building, creating an unbearable pressure, and he felt like he had become a vessel that was not nearly big enough to contain the power that was pouring into it. Force energy roared through his mind while tension stretched his body. When at last he could take no more, he was cut loose and thrown into blackness. He fell to the floor.

The pain was gone, but in its place was a buzzing in his ears, and when he opened his eyes his vision appeared shattered and distorted, like peering through broken glass. He was kneeling now, his hands on the ground in the same posture as the statues. He looked down at his body, half expecting to see the burnt wreckage of his flesh, but he looked normal. No, not quite. Ribbons of lightning darted across his skin, torso and hands, snaking through his body like a trapped and desperate animal. Mordivai felt a terrible sense of intrusion. This foreign power did not belong in him, and suddenly he was certain that it would tear him apart from the inside if it were not released.

With every ounce of motivation he possessed, Mordivai stood and gathered himself for a monumental push. He threw out his hands in the direction of the door and the lightning surged forth, cascading out of him like a dam that had broken. Whereas before he had felt agony, now he was bathed in ecstasy. He was soaring, euphoric, omnipotent. He was a god. There was a momentous crack and the door came unsealed, breaking open and tipping forward, until it crashed onto the floor, still intact. Mordivai collapsed on the dais as his legs turned to water beneath him.

He lay there for a while, spent, staring at the ceiling. As his energy returned, curiosity overtook him and he got to his feet. There was a gaping hole where the door used to stand. Something wasn’t right, however.

He stepped off the dais and his feet were swallowed up in a pile of sand. Sand? He wobbled through it, becoming increasingly concerned as he came closer to the open doorway. He stepped over a ledge and his feet sunk in even deeper. The entry was barely the size of a shallow closet, ending abruptly in another solid wall, and the space in between had been filled with earth.

“No.” Mordivai ran his hands along the wall. He pushed it. There was not even a sign of any door here. The wall was nothing but unbroken rock. It was a false entrance. Mordivai slumped against the wall, feeling defeated.

“There you are.”

Mordivai looked up. Balek was there, nonchalant, his hands in his pockets. Gone was his usual playful smile. His face was long and grave.

“What are you doing here, Balek?”

“I’m sorry,” Balek said, and the words dropped like stones, empty of emotion. “I liked you. Really, I did.” Balek’s pale hands emerged from his pockets and he held them out apologetically. “But he promised me and my brother that we could go home.” His voice turned wistful. “No academy, no slavery, just...home.”

Before Mordivai could ask what he was talking about, Balek turned and called through the doorway. “I found him!”

A moment later, Wydr emerged, followed by Rabinya and Ffon.

“What are you all about? What’s going on?” Mordiavi stepped forward, a tingling of unease passing through him. “Ffon?”

“You’re done here, Mordivai,” Ffon said. “You are not a Sith, and never will be.” He glanced at his companions, his voice taking on a darker edge. “Seal him in the tomb.”

Then Ffon’s hand shot out, and Mordivai was thrown into the air.

His skull cracked against the back wall of the tomb, and then Mordivai fell to the floor, getting a face full of sand. He bounded to his feet and scrambled for his vibroblade, thrusting it in before him as a streak of Force lightning arced towards his face, nearly blinding him in its brightness. The vibroblade was no lightsaber, however, and it only blocked part of the blast. A sizzle of pain crawled up Mordivai’s arms and he gritted his teeth, working to keep his grip on the blade’s hilt. He pushed forward, and when the barrage stopped, he sprinted ahead, his blade at the ready. Rabinya was in his sights, but before he could swing at her, his feet were kicked out from under him and his back smacked against the stone floor.

For a second he was disoriented, but the sight of a boot slamming towards him brought him back to his senses. He could hear Ffon yelling angry instructions, and he caught a glimpse of Wydr’s crazed and determined countenance before rolling away. But there were four of them and only one of him, and even though he thrashed and swung like a madman, they were quickly gaining the advantage. He was lifted off his feet and held in stasis, then pushed back towards the tomb once more, until he saw the dark sides of it obscuring his vision. The tomb’s enormous door began rising from the floor as three of the acolytes stood concentrating around it.

“Hurry! Hurry!” Ffon was urging, and Mordivai felt the power of the paralysis fading. Mordivai gathered every bit of Force energy he could muster and hurled it outward, breaking Ffon’s hold on him. The blast knocked Rabinya down and took Balek off his feet as well. Wydr roared in frustration as he struggled to hold the giant stone aloft by himself. For the briefest moment it wobbled in the air over Balek’s prone body. Then it fell.

There was a colossal thud, and Balek’s scream was cut short as he was crushed beneath the stone’s weight. A horrified yell tore out of Wydr, his eyes bulging and his face stripped of color. He gasped a moment and then screamed again.

“Forget Balek!” Ffon cried. “Just forget him!”

Mordivai lunged at Ffon, but Ffon waved a hand and Mordivai felt the energy draining from his body. His momentum chugged to a halt and he stumbled to his knees. Ffon grabbed him by the arm and dragged him across the floor, the brittle stones catching against Mordivai’s clothes. Ffon shoved him into the tomb and then gripped him by the shoulders and pounded his head against the back wall. Mordivi looked up to see Ffon’s eyes glowing with Force power, his face pinched in a grimace. Lightning streaked from his fingertips, freezing Mordivai in place and sending flames of pain shooting through his limbs. There was a final, brilliant burst and Mordivai was left stunned, helpless to even move. The others had lifted the giant stone door once more, and it was closing in, blocking out what little light remained in the tomb. Mordivai tried to yell but he couldn’t will his voice to obey.

The stone was grinding into place. Through the crack Mordivai could spot Wydr with his arms outstretched, willing the stone back into position. He was sobbing openly over his lost brother, his face ashen and streaked with tears.

“Almost there!” he heard Rabinya cry. “Keep it up!”

Mordivai’s limbs became his own again and he surged to his feet. The stone was close now, close enough that he could lay his hands on it. He pressed his palms against it, using Force power and his own might to counteract its motion, but he could feel his feet sliding in the sand. He hurled his whole body into the stone, panic welling inside him. It was growing dark.

“I will kill you for this!” His voice sounded hoarse and tight within the confines of the tomb. “I’ll kill you all!”

Rabinya laughed. Only a crack of light was left. Mordivai began screaming incoherently, but stopped when a sliver of Ffon’s red face appeared.

“Maybe in your next life, Jedi. But certainly not in this one.” Ffon barked out a short laugh and the light blinked out.

Mordivai was plunged into blackness. He hollered at the door, demanding to be let out, calling out threats and screaming obscenities. He yelled until his voice broke. He pushed against the door, willing the Force to help him. His foot slipped on the sand and he fell forward, skimming his forehead against the rock and drawing blood. The taste of sand was in his mouth and clogging his throat. He pushed himself off the floor.

His breathing was loud in his ears and his eyes played tricks on him, showing him spots and flickers of light that were not there. Mordivai held his breath and listened. The tomb outside was empty. The only sound was the stuttering of his own heart.

He began pounding against the stone and sending waves of Force energy at it once more, but it remained immoveable as the sun. How would anyone ever find him here? Who would even care to look? His fists stung but he kept up the barrage, finally switching to slamming his shoulder against the stone when his hands couldn’t take the beating any longer. He screamed and clawed at the walls, dug through the sand and felt for cracks. Nothing, nothing, nothing. Just this darkness, this silence, this death-filled place, this tomb.

Lightning shot from his hands, staining his vision with floating spots, and he watched it fizzle around the edges of the door. Useless. He hit the door with Force energy again and again, not caring anymore from where he drew his power or how it manifested. He was weakening, however, for most of his energy had been used up on the ritual that had unsealed this false door. Trapped. Was the air getting thinner? He paused every now and then to gasp for breath, but the silence smothered him and soon he was screaming once more.

He was seized by a deep, primal terror. It was a beast tearing at him from the inside, clawing and shredding its way out of his skull. The tomb was shrinking, and the beast was expanding, crowding him out, squashing him under its weight and suffocating him. His thoughts scattered and fled in its wake. And then the beast was there, huge and unstoppable, and Mordivai was swallowed whole into its gullet, lost in the endless pit of what must surely be madness.

00o00

Grit in his eyes and hair. Hands coated in sand and fingers covered in blood. He was too exhausted now to to cry or sob. He lay on the floor of the tomb. Still and silent.

Until the floor shifted underneath him.

He pushed himself up with his arms and it moved again, jerking suddenly downward. He shoved aside handfuls of sand, his fingers questing along the floor. The floor! A quiet shirring sound accompanied the feel of sand as it slipped through unseen cracks. There was something underneath him, a hole, or a chamber maybe.

_A way out._

Because it had been covered in a thick layer of sand, Mordivai had not noticed the floor. It was not made of stone. It was something else, something brittle and ancient, and when he pounded his fist against it pieces of it snapped off against his hand. Mordivai tore at it for a while and then pulled together what Force power he had left and directed it at the floor.

There was a loud _crack_ and the floor fell out from underneath him. He tumbled down a hard edged surface -- stairs, his mind told him -- rolling down down down. Finally he came to a stop at the bottom, his vibroblade clattering to the ground at his side and sand spreading out around him like a wave.

The air currents here told him he was in a large room. He breathed deep. This place could have been stale and untouched for thousands of years, but to him it was a verdant garden. He was slowing bringing himself to his knees when he heard a sound.

A shuffling along the floor. The clicking of clawed toes against stone. Mordivai’s heart stopped beating as a voice, ancient and deep, came out of the darkness.

“You stink of fear, little Sith. And I am hungry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and commenting!
> 
> Next chapter: _When Chains are Broken_


	13. When Chains are Broken

Mordivai swept down the halls of Korriban Academy and acolytes stepped aside to let him pass. Dust clung to his robes, blood smeared his face and hands, and sand was caked in his hair. He was a ghost from the tombs come to life, strung with cobwebs that fluttered from his clothes as he walked. He moved with a singular purpose, his eyes fixed ahead, his fists clenching and unclenching spasmodically within the sleeves of his robe. He was a shadow. He was death. He was vengeance.

Behind him stalked the monster, the Dashade, a creature of legend made real. He was a nightmare, with a mouth full of fanged teeth, clawed hands and feet, and a body implanted with cybernetics. He followed obediently as if led by an invisible chain, always a few steps behind.

The last few hours were already a haze in Mordivai’s mind. He recalled the feel of the vibroblade in his hand, its hilt sticky with sweat and sand, and the way it buzzed through the blackness, guided only by instinct and the Force itself. He was beyond terror by then. He was brimming with a wild fury. _How dare you!_ his mind screamed at his unseen assailant. _I refuse to die!_ A well of power had opened up inside him, one that he never knew existed, pouring forth a desperate stream of energy which he used to supplement what strength he had left. He had fought like he had never fought in his life. In the end, the Dashade had fallen at his feet, offering its service.

“I am Khem Val,” the Dashade had answered, “and I will feast upon your enemies.”

“Then I am your master now,” Mordivai told him.

Mordivai entered the dormitory hallway and strode to one of the doors. He raised his hand and it blew open, smashing against the wall. The room was empty. Mordivai turned and saw a slack-jawed acolyte standing in the hall.

“Where’s Wydr?”

“Wydr? He...he just left. Packed up. He’s going home. He went out. That way.”

Mordivai left the room and the acolyte jumped aside, craning his neck up at the Dashade.

Mordivai found Wydr alone in a small outer courtyard. All the blood drained from Wydr’s face when he looked up. He began to stammer.

“Oh stars. I didn’t mean to kill you. I didn’t mean it!”

Using the Force, Mordivai threw him backward against a stone wall and held him there.

“I’m not dead, you idiot.”

“Oh! Oh, thank goodness then. I knew you’d escape. I just went along-”

“You are a liar and a coward.” Mordivai turned to the Dashade. “This one is yours, Khem.”

Wydr crumpled to the ground when Mordivai released him. Khem lurched forward and snatched up Wydr by the neck in one of his clawed hands.

Mordivai turned and left the courtyard. Wydr’s hysterical screams followed him out, but were soon cut off. A few minutes later, Khem caught up with him. He looked bigger now, fuller somehow and more robust.

Next, Mordivai located Rabinya in the training room. She lowered the training blade she had been holding, her mouth falling open.

“Impossible,” she sputtered.

Mordivai paced across the room, drawing his vibroblade. He struck her down with one two-handed swing before she had even moved from her spot, her eyes following him blankly the whole while, her face registering incomprehension until the end.

Mordivai went last to Overseer Harkun’s office.

He threw open the doors and swept inside. Ffon was there, leaning over Harkun’s desk, in the midst of some heated discussion. They both jerked in surprise when Mordivai entered.

“You!” Harkun said. “And...the Dashade.”

Mordivai slammed a holocron on the desk, and it kicked up a small cloud of dust when it landed.

“Here...” he said pointedly, “...is your map.”

He held up his hand and used the Force to lift Ffon off his feet. Ffon kicked the air, his red eyes stark with surprise. Mordivai hurled him into the nearest wall. He fell and Mordivai picked him up again, suspending him in the air and choking him further. Ffon helplessness was more than satisfying, he discovered. It was exhilarating.

“What are you doing?” Harkun was yelling. “You can’t...stop this!”

Ffon was growing ashen, his eyelids fluttering as his pupils rolled upwards.

“What is going on?” A female voice broke Mordivai’s concentration and he dropped Ffon to the ground. Ffon blinked and gasped, rubbing his throat and looking dazed.

“Lord Zash!” Harkun’s voice was practically a squeak. “What are you doing here?”

Mordivai turned to see an attractive blonde human entering the room. Even if it hadn’t been for the blatant fear coming off of Harkun, Mordivai still would have been impressed with her commanding presence. She smiled pleasantly, but there was no kindness in her eyes.

“Overseer,” she said. Her tone was falsely pleasant, yet scolding, the kind of voice a teacher might use to admonish an unruly pupil. “Are you saying that I, a lord of the Sith, should not go where I please here in the Academy of the Sith?”

“No! I meant so such thing.”

Zash’s attention had already dropped away, her gaze falling to Harkun’s desk. She brightened.

“I see someone brought me the map from Naga Sadow’s tomb. How wonderful.”

“Yes,” Harkun said quickly. “Yes, here it is.” He picked it up and held it out for Zash. She took it, smiling graciously.

“You said Ffon would have something for me by the end of today. Is Ffon responsible for this gift?” She turned her chilling smile on Ffon, but he just stared at her from his spot on the floor, the lump in his throat bobbing sporadically.

“Ffon?” Zash prompted again, stronger this time.

“No, Lord Zash,” Ffon croaked.

Harkun spoke up. “It was...it was him, my lord.” He gestured in Mordivai’s direction, unwilling, Mordivai noticed, to even speak his name.

“Splendid.” Zash directed an approving nod at Mordivai. “Fine work, my apprentice.” She reached for her belt, drew out a lightsaber and held it out to him.

“Ffon has disgraced himself and is not worthy,” she said. “Finish him.”

Mordivai took the weapon, feeling the sleek hilt settle comfortably against his palm as if it belonged there. He was only vaguely aware that Zash had called him “apprentice” and not “acolyte,” but had little time to dwell on it, for the he was already calling the blade to life in his hand. Its humming was like music.

_Ffon deserves to die_ , he thought. _It is justice._

Mordivai pivoted sharply, and before Ffon could throw up his hands in defense, he stabbed Ffon clear through the chest with one swift stroke.

“Good,” Zash said sweetly. “You may keep the weapon. It is my gift to you.”

Mordivai sheathed it on his belt.

“Thank you, Master,” he answered.

00o00

A few days later, Mordivai stood in Overseer Harkun’s office for the last time. He felt strangely numb and distant, as if he were watching the scene unfold before him from the screen of a holovid. It was someone’s else life, his old life, a life he no longer recognized.

He stood face to face with his parents.

“Mordivai.” His mother rushed at him first and clutched him in a fierce embrace. Behind her, Mordivai spotted his father, dressed in uniform as always. His black hair had gone stark white since he had last seen him. In fact, he looked much like he had in Mordivai’s vision in the ruins of Kaleth. _You will be Sith,_ his father had told him. Praven had said such visions were not to be taken literally. Praven was wrong.

His mother, he saw when she pulled away, still looked much as he remembered her, her red eyes bright with a restless intensity, although there were lines at their corners now.

“You are so different,” she said. Her hand brushed aside his hair, exposing the rippled scar that covered half his face. She held him by the shoulders and studied him some more. “You are Sith.” There was approval in her voice.

Mordivai nodded and said nothing.

“Harkun says you did well and are apprenticed to a Sith lord already. I am proud of you.”

“Thank you.”

“So much has happened...we have searched for you for so long.” She pulled a datapad from a pouch on her belt. “There’s something you need to see.” She held it out to him and he took it.

On it was a copy of an official government document, a death certificate. Mordivai was startled to see his own name printed at the top. It had been signed by two witnesses. The first was a medic whose name Mordivai did not recognize, but the other name was one he did know. Gatten Riel.

“That Jedi,” his mother said, her voice laden now with malice, “ _kidnapped you._ Stole you from us. Lied to Empire, to us and to you. He knew who you were. He meant to use you against us.”

“He failed,” Mordivai said quietly. He looked up. His mother’s face was dark with the kind of rancor which only comes from years of nurturing.

“He needs to die,” she said.

Mordivai held the datapad out to her. “He is already dead.”

“I see.” She sounded disappointed. She was quiet for a moment, but then her face cleared and she met Mordivai’s eyes again. “I knew you had not died in that explosion. We would have never stopped searching for you. Never.”

“How did you find me?”

She turned to his father. “Tell him, Malavai.”

Admiral Quinn came forward. “All the recent graduates of the Academy are publicly listed, along with their mentor assignments and their family lineage, on the official government roster. Over the years, I have followed every lead I could, and so when I saw that a Mordivai Riel had recently completed training, I sent in a request for your bioscan read-out. It listed you as fifty-three point eight percent human and forty-six point two percent Pureblood. I requested a more detailed analysis and had it compared with each of ours. You were a genetic match. That was three days ago.”

“Mordivai,” his mother asked, “Why didn’t you tell anyone who you were?”

Mordivai had spent years dreaming of being reconciled with his parents, and years more dreading it. Now that they were here he didn’t know how to feel. How could he explain all his shame and confusion? He was Sith now. He had nothing to hide anymore. Why did he feel so guilty and conflicted? He decided to stick to the simplest facts.

“I did speak up, when I first arrived in Imperial space. But no one believed me. Guess I was officially dead anyway.”

His mother clenched a fist and shook her head. “Outrageous. I heard what happened to you, Mordivai. My _son_ , captured and sold as a common slave. We tracked down your buyer. That Lord Shastine will pay dearly.”

“I will take care of it,” Mordivai said quietly.

“Good. You deserve that much.” She sighed. “Harkun didn’t give us much time. I understand you have a shuttle to catch to Dromund Kaas.”

His father glanced at the chrono and then back at his mother. “I would like a moment more, Morda.”

“Of course.” She went to the doorway and Mordivai spotted Harkun waiting in the hallway, looking stiff and uncomfortable. She engaged him in conversation and Mordivai turned his attention back his father.

For a moment, he had a flashback from Kaleth, and he waited for his father to start saying the same words to him that he had then. However, Admiral Quinn drew him into an unexpected hug instead.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had been hugged by his father. Quinn had expressed his approval with a nod or the flash of a smile, or more rarely, in Mordivai’s younger years, a fond pat on the head. Mordivai didn’t know what to do at first, but finally he returned the embrace.

“That first year,” Quinn said, his voice unusually rough, “we were lost. Your mother was frantic, and I had so many regrets.”

“It’s over now.” Mordivai didn’t know what else to say and had never been in the position to offer comfort to one of his parents before.

Quinn let go and stepped back. “We don’t know you anymore. All those years, stolen from us. I’ve wondered, what did the Jedi tell you when they took you? What reason did they give for not returning you to us?”

“I was told that I was a prisoner of war. I had a choice of going to prison or going with the Jedi.”

“That is a lie.” Quinn’s voice was calm as always, but his blue eyes were cold and angry. “You were a child and a civilian. They had no right to keep you.”

Had Master Gatten truly deceived him all this time? He found it hard to imagine that Gatten, so gentle and earnest, could plot so coldly to keep a child from his family. He knew that what his father said was true, however. It made sense. How had he never thought of that before? _Gatten was trying to save you from becoming Sith,_ he reminded himself. That is why he acted as he did. He would need more time to think on this.

At that moment, his mother stepped back into the room. “It’s time for you to go.” She sounded reluctant. “Mordivai.” She leaned close, and lowered her voice. “Be wary of Lord Zash. She is a dangerous Sith. I only hope the Academy has prepared you well.”

“I will remember that. Thank you.”

She touched his hair one last time, ruffling it gently across his forehead. It was such an old, familiar gesture, and one that Mordivai associated with his childhood, that for a moment he felt a painful ache welling in his chest and his eyes stung. He took a slow, careful breath.

“Goodbye for now, Mordivai,” Morda said.

“Bye.”

Mordivai watched his parents leave. After they had gone, Harkun returned. Mordivai could sense the naked fear on him and suddenly he felt his emotions returning in a flood of anger. Such wanton hate the Jedi would have never condoned, yet it roared to life within him, and Mordivai, for once, did not try to rein it in. Through passion I gain strength. Harkun’s trial had not killed him. It had shown him the origin of true power.

“If we ever meet again outside this Academy,” Mordivai said, “I will kill you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was an important chapter (along with the one before it), because it represents a culmination of everything the story had been working towards up until this point. I've been both excited and nervous about posting it. It marks the end of Mordivai's life as a Jedi and the beginning of his journey as a Sith. My goal was to build this up in a believable way, so that when Mord "snaps" you feel that moment of breaking as well and _get_ it. (And maybe even feel a bit of justified triumph as well.) I hope I succeeded. Mordivai is still Mordivai...his personality is not going to radically change or do a 180. But he's learning how to harness his anger and how to use it to fight back when needed. He's also, (poor guy,) about to go through a bit of an identity crisis, as if he hadn't already been teetering on the edge to begin with.
> 
> Deep down, this story is about defining who you are and not allowing others do that for you. Society is really good at putting us all in boxes, isn't it? Mordivai still has a ways to go.
> 
> Thank you for reading and for commenting! I love writing stories and I love sharing them with other people. Let's have fun and escape to a galaxy far, far away (and who hasn't wanted to Force choke someone once in a while?)


	14. Righting Old Wrongs

It was a hot night in the jungle, and even the wind from the speeding taxi felt heavy and warm against Mordivai’s face. The glow from the Kaas City skyline was no longer visible this far out, revealing a sky teeming with stars. Mordivai watched their progress through the jungle on the map on his datapad.

“Stop here at this bend up ahead,” he directed the pilot droid.

“But my lord, this is not a designated landing zone.”

“I said _stop here._ ”

“Yes my lord, very well.”

The speeder’s engine dropped in pitch and they gradually slowed to a stop. Mordivai jumped out and consulted his map again. Khem lumbered out of the taxi and hovered behind him, peering over his shoulder like a brooding dark cloud. Behind him, Mordivai heard the taxi speeding away.

“Master,” Khem grumbled, “where are we going? This is not where Lord Zash sent us.”

“I know. I have another errand to run.”

Mordivai pulled a glowstick out of his pocket, stepped off the path, and began to trudge his way through the thick of the jungle. Khem followed obediently behind.

Mordivai was only beginning to understand the Dashade that claimed to serve him. Maybe it was Khem’s cybernetic programming, or the ancient code of honor he followed, but once bested, Khem had declared himself bound in servitude to Mordivai whether Mordivai wanted it or not. For all his insistence, Khem was not happy about the arrangement either. He obeyed as Mordivai required, and defended him when necessary, but he also made it clear that he planned to regain his independence, and on that day, Mordivai would suffer.

During those first few weeks Mordivai felt just as chained to the creature as the creature did to him. Khem was never far, and Mordivai slept little. He wondered if this paranoia would strengthen him or simply drive him mad.

Khem was more than just a brutish monster, however. There was intelligence behind those cold red eyes, and emotion as well. Khem did not speak much at first, but gradually he began to offer counsel which Mordivai found to be solid and insightful more often than not, even though he didn’t always agree. Mordivai even began to feel sympathy for Khem, although he was careful to hide it lest Khem interpret it as pity. As far as they both knew, Khem was the last of his kind, a remnant of long dead era. Mordivai thought he heard a wistfulness in Khem’s voice when he commented on how once-familiar places had changed, and he frequently reminisced about the glory days he had spent conquering planets with his former Sith master. Khem spoke of Tulak Hord with a reverence that bordered on idolatry, and Mordivai wondered if Khem had even loved his former master, in his own way. Mordivai would have gladly freed Khem from his servitude, but he couldn’t as long as Khem harbored revenge against him. Mordivai decided to wait and see how things developed between them.

The jungle parted before them and Mordivai stepped out into a clearing. In the distance rose the tall fortified walls of Lord Shastine’s compound.

“Where have you brought us, little Sith?”

Mordivai stared at the turrets lining the walls, and beyond that, the rooftop of Shastine’s manor. A tightness squeezed his chest at the thought of entering that place again, but he knew that he had to bring closure to this part of his life.

“I was a slave here,” he said, “for a time.”

“Then we are here to take revenge.” Khem flexed his massive arms, curling his three-clawed hands into fists. “Good.”

“I will go inside,” Mordivai instructed him, “and you will wait until I call for you. You may kill anyone who challenges you.”

“You deny me the fighting.”

“You will help me get inside. But I need to face Shastine alone.”

Khem grunted understanding at that.

They crept around the compound in order to approach from the west, where there was an entryway in the surrounding wall that was smaller and less guarded. Mordivai remembered how unprepared and helpless he had felt when trying to contemplate ever leaving this place. He never dreamed he’d end up trying to infiltrate the estate from the outside in.

There were no guards at this entrance, only two security cams and a turret. Mordivai crept as close as he dared and peered out from behind a statue of a roaring Terentatek. The cameras’ lenses were tiny, and would be difficult to reach. Mordivai thought of the way Shastine had intended to debase and humiliate him, and felt his anger kindle into flame. He concentrated on balling up Force power in his hands, feeling it building inside him like a slowly rising tide, until his palms tingled. Then he thrust his hand out and aimed for his first target. A lurid streak of purple Force lightning leapt from his fingers and hit one of the cameras in a spray of sparks. Mordivai waited to see if the turret activated or if his action had triggered any alarm, but all was silent. He imagined what the look on Shastine’s face would be when she recognized him. _I bested you as a Jedi and I will do so again as a Sith._ His hand began to spark this time before he’d even begun to aim, but his attack landed true, and the second camera shorted out when it was struck. Then Mordivai stepped out from behind the statue and lit up his lightsaber. He threw it into a spin and it spiraled away from him with a rolling hum, leaving a red haze in its wake. It hit the top of the turret and sheared the small cannon completely off. He called the lightsaber back to his hand and reattached it to his belt.

“Khem, get the door for me.”

Khem stalked forward with his fist raised. As soon as the intercom was in reach, he smashed it with enough force to pound a hole in the wall. Sparks danced around his hand, but Khem splayed his claws and reached in further, grabbing a handful of wires and yanking them hard until they spilled out of the crushed panel like the innards of a mauled beast. Then he turned towards the doors and lunged, hitting them solidly with his shoulder. A loud metal clang echoed through the night air and the doors dented on impact. Khem pried his claws into the gap he’d created and grunted. Mordivai watched his arms shake as the doors slowly pried apart. There was a metallic screech and Khem released his hold, stepping back to allow Mordivai to pass.

Mordivai stepped into Lord Shastine’s inner yard, his footsteps muffled by the damp grass. Khem followed. They swung around to the back of the house where there was another door, also with a security cam, but no turret. This close to the house, he was more concerned about perimeter alarms so he halted a ways away and knelt in the grass.

He cleared his mind and opened himself to the Force, as Master Praven had taught him. He felt life teeming all around him; plants, trees, and the simple minds of animals both savage and meek. He reached further and found what he sought. Three life forms were present in the house. That made sense. Most likely they were Skiro, Ai’lanynn and Shastine herself. One glowed like a brand, full of vigor and hate, and Mordivai stayed clear of that mind. He lightly touched the other two. One was awake and anxious, the other was sleeping. He nudged the sleeping mind.

_A sound has awoken you. You should open the back door to investigate._

His patience was beginning to wear, and he feared that his ploy wouldn’t work, when just then the back door slid open and Ai’lanynn’s pale face appeared.

Mordivai lept to his feet. He gestured for Khem to stay hidden in the shadows, and was racing across the grass a moment after, pushing himself to an unnatural speed with the Force. He imagined himself as a shadow and swept past Ai’lanynn through the open door like a brisk wind.

She turned her head, startled, but did not acknowledge him. Instead, she shook her head and re-latched the door.

Mordivai crept down the hall, deeper into the house, leaving Ai’lanynn behind. Thick carpet cushioned his feet, and the eyes of paintings and holostatues followed him. He gripped the hilt of his lightsaber with his finger lightly resting on the activation trigger. He stretched his consciousness out to its fullest reach, and finally pinpointed Shastine’s location.

He found her on the second floor, in a far corner of the house. He did not try to hide his presence any longer. He walked freely down the corridor until he reached the open doorway at the end.

He stepped into the room. Lord Shastine was there, dressed casually and with her tight curls bound back. She had paused in her exercises and was standing in the middle of a wide, open practice room, her eyes glued to the doorway. She took in his measure with a look of disbelief.

Mordivai held his lightsaber lowered and unlit, but clearly at the ready.

“Remember me, Shastine?”

He saw her work to regain her composure. That sly, girlish smile that he recalled so well broke across her face.

“You have changed.” Her voice was sweet, but that of course had always been an illusion. “You are a boy no longer, I see. The Academy has shaped you into a man.”

“You haven’t changed at all.”

“Not all changes are visible ones. How thoughtful of you to visit me.”

Mordivai didn’t feel like playing any of Shastine’s games. Seeing her again, hearing her voice, only brought back his old feelings of helplessness. He needed to end this quickly.

“I nearly succeeded in killing you the first time. Now I am here to finish it.”

Shastines’s face fell into a pout. “Don’t be so hasty. We are on equal footing now. We could be allies, you know.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“What happened between us was obviously a mistake. And one that has been corrected. You have received your due.” She nodded towards the lightsaber in his hand, as if to imply that his becoming a Sith was a gift he had been granted. How little she understood him.

“Put up your weapon and face me.”

Shastine giggled. “Still trying to be a Jedi? You are too polite.” The words had not finished leaving her mouth when she tossed out a hand and sent a burst of lightning at his torso. Mordivai released the red blade on his lightsaber and blocked it. He rushed at her, driving back her lightning barrage with Force power, and went on the offensive. He was angry, determined, and driven by conviction. _I will not fail._

Shastine’s eyes widened, the smile dropping from her face. Her reactions were a just beat too slow, her movements laggard and weary. Mordivai saw the sheen of sweat that reflected off her forehead and the way her shirt was plastered to her skin. He had caught her at the end of her workout most likely, a realization which almost disappointed him. But then he felt the apprehension oozing off of her. She knew she was at a disadvantage and was afraid.

She skittered away, dodging just out of his reach. “I helped shape you,” she gasped, “It’s your rage for me that gives you strength.”

Mordivai caught up with her and took her by surprise with a strike that almost forced her off her feet. He followed up with a Force push that tossed her backwards into the nearby wall.

She blinked the sweat out of her eyes and looked up at him. “Hate the lessons I taught you, but do not hate me! I can still help you.”

He lunged for her and she kneed him in the groin.

“If not for me, you’d still be lost in your Jedi illusions,” she cried. “I could have killed you, but instead I sent you to Korriban.”

Mordivai felt himself enveloped in a web of lightning and was momentarily blinded. He gathered his will and broke free just as Shastine came at him with a strike meant to lance him through the middle. He knocked the blade out of the way and threw his weight at her, slamming his shoulder against the front of her body and knocking her backwards several paces. She kept her footing, but just barely.

“Lord Kertrin sent me to Korriban. You would have kept me a slave.”

Mordivai thrust at her. She threw up her arm, blocking his downward jab with the blade of her lightsaber, but it was a clumsy move, and the momentum of Mordivai’s thrust knocked the blade out of her hand. She fumbled backwards, tripping against a chair, and tumbled onto her backside. Mordivai towered over her, readying himself for the killing blow.

Shastine looked up at him, her cherubic face masked in dread. It wouldn’t have mattered even she had met him fresh and rested, Mordivai realized. He had surpassed her in skill. He was better than her, and she knew it.

The anger drained out of him. Shastine looked small and child-like, her fear and panic thick in the air to Mordivai’s Force senses. Her small dominion here, safely tucked away in her manor, felt pathetic now, the mere trappings of power only. She was no threat to him any longer.

Mordivai lowered his weapon.

“Go ahead and play in your little castle,” he said. “It means nothing.”

She watched him, her eyes wide and dark, and for once she had no response. Mordivai turned away, leaving her prone on the floor.

He had only taken a step when his instincts were alerted to movement from behind. He spun, his reflexes snapping into action, his forward jab already in motion.

By the time he realized his error, it was too late.

Shastine had started to rise from the ground, and the red blade of Mordivai’s lightsaber skewered her before she could finish her move.

Only Shastine hadn’t been about to attack him. She was facing away from him, the fingers of her right hand clinging to the nearby chair as she had tried to right herself. Her lightsaber still lay where it had fallen, untouched. Mordivai had killed her when her back was turned.

He pulled his blade free and Shastine slumped to the floor, the light in her eyes already extinguished. Mordivai’s hands shook, and his lightsaber slipped from his grasp, the buzz of the plasma blade winking out when it made contact with the floor. He felt vaguely sick.

_She was Sith, and a rival. She deserved to die,_ a voice in his head protested. But another, stronger voice overrode it. _She was defeated and disarmed. She was no threat,_ the second voice said. _You were paranoid. Your haste and carelessness killed her._

Slowly Mordivai bent to retrieve his weapon and hooked it to his belt. He walked from the room, feeling numb.

00o00

When Mordivai reached the ground floor of Shastine’s manor he found Ai’lanynn huddled behind a couch in the living room.

“Ai’lanynn? It’s ok. You can come out now.”

Her pink head emerged and she peered out, making no attempt to leave her hiding place. But then her eyes widened and she leapt forward, crashing into him and nearly knocking him over with the force of her hug.

“Mordivai? It’s really you!”

He held her for a moment, feeling awkward and unworthy of her gratitude. “It’s over now, Ai’lanynn. You are free. Shastine is dead.”

She pulled back and stared at him with watery eyes. “She’s dead?” She held a hand against her chest and appeared confused for a moment. “Where will I go? They will think I ran away...or-”

“You have family somewhere?”

She nodded.

“Then I will pay for your passage to reach them. Are you ready to go home?”

“Home?” Her voice quivered and broke. “Yes!” She laughed, tears wetting her cheeks. “I’m ready to go home.”

“Gather whatever belongings you need. We need to leave right away.”

“I will!” She rushed past him and loped down the hall in a hurried gait.

Mordivai sighed and closed his eyes. When he opened them he saw Skiro skulking in the doorway, looking shrunken and defeated.

“My lord.” He held out his hand as if to hold off retribution. “Do not leave me here with...do not leave me here alone. Take me with you as your servant. I will gladly serve you.”

Mordivai barely heard him. He swept forward and clutched Skiro’s shirt in his hands.

“Why I shouldn’t kill you instead?”

Skiro swallowed thickly. “I only ever wanted to obey. I did as I was told...and I...I loved her.”

Mordivai released him. He knew that letting Skiro go would not erase the guilt of his error with Shastine, but he wasn’t in the mood for any more killings tonight. “Get out of my sight. I don’t care where you go. Just...go.”

Skiro nodded. “Very well, my lord.” He turned and slipped away down the hall.

Mordivai found Khem waiting for him on the back lawn. “If you see the Chiss, let him go. He’s no concern of ours anymore. And-” Mordivai turned, seeing Ai’lanynn coming through the doorway, “you will defend this Twi’lek as you would me. She will staying with us for a short time.”

Khem snorted and crossed his arms, but Mordivai knew he would follow orders.

Mordivai took another droid-driven transport vehicle back to Kaas City, thinking that it would be best to avoid being seen by a human driver. Ai’lanynn was clearly terrified of Khem Val, so Mordivai made him sit in front, while he took a spot next to Ai’lanynn in the back.

Lord Zash had given Mordivai a small personal office in the Sith Citadel and that’s where Khem frequently spent the night. Mordivai wasn’t sure that Khem actually needed sleep, and given the vindictive nature of most Sith, he liked the idea of having a guard left there. Tonight he was extra glad that he had made such arrangements with Khem early on, so that he didn’t need to make any awkward concessions while Ai’lanynn was here.

By the time they arrived at his tiny apartment, it was almost dawn.

“We need to plan how best to get you on the fastest ship home,” Mordivai said, glancing at Ai’lanynn as he slid his key card through the door. “It may take a few days though to make the arrangements.”

“I won’t be any trouble. I have a lot of household skills, and if there is anything else you need I’m a fast learner.”

Mordivai held the door open as Ai’lanynn passed through. “I don’t require anything, really. You are my guest, remember? You should stay inside though, for your safety.”

Mordivai slipped gratefully into the solitude of his bedroom, and lost no time tipping his bed out from the wall so that he could throw himself on it. The world was a better place without Shastine in it, yet he took no pleasure from her death. Being steeped in the deceptions of the Sith had made him paranoid. How Gatten would have chastised him for acting before thinking, for letting his fear override his common sense. His muddled thoughts faded, and then at last, sleep claimed him.

He woke some hours later and found Ai’lanynn bustling about his kitchen. A fruity scent was coming off the shiny, bare counter, and she had somehow managed to scrape together his kitchen leftovers into an appetizing lunch. Mordivai rubbed his eyes and pushed the hair out of his face.

“Ai’lanynn, what...what is all this?”

“Well, I’ve worked with worse,” she said. She paused to look at him and her smile faltered. “Aren’t you hungry?”

Mordivai realized that he was in danger of insulting her. “Yes, actually. This is...great. I’m just surprised. Thanks. You didn’t need to do this.”

“Well, better than fidgeting on the couch.” She shrugged and gave him an apologetic grin.

Ai’lanynn joined him for lunch and for a few minutes they sat in comfortable silence. The whole scene was so normal, so domestic, that Mordivai felt strangely removed from place and time, like someone had plucked him out of his usual life and plopped him into someone else’s. Was this what everyday life was like for non Force-sensitives? Life would be so much more peaceful without the fear of someone always out to kill you.

After lunch, Mordivai left Ai’lanynn alone while he went to check in with Zash. As usual, his master had praise for him. Mordivai didn’t mention his extra sojourn into Shastine’s territory.

Dusk was rolling over the city when he returned to his apartment building. Other than the glaring lights of the nightclubs, which only came on after the dinner hour, there was little to distinguish dawn from day or day from dusk on Dromund Kaas. The perpetually gray sky grew gloomier and a chill breeze snapped the Imperial flags that hung from buildings all over the city. Mordivai was deep in the midst of meandering daydreams as he swiped his entry key in his apartment door.

The door had barely cracked open when a blaring musical beat spilled from his apartment into the hallway. Mordivai stepped into the kitchen. The music boomed throughout his apartment, some kind of traditional Twi’lek song that prickled a childhood memory. His mother’s friend Vette had sang it, except the version he heard now was set to a modernized dance beat. Around the corner, there was Ai’lanynn, swaying and bouncing in his living room. Her damaged legs did not allow her much movement for dancing moves, but she swung her arms and rocked from side to side, belting out the lyrics with heartfelt enthusiasm. Her voice was easily good enough for a professional singer. Perhaps she had been, during her days in the hutt’s cantina.

She spotted him and broke into a smile, then reached out and grabbed him. “Come join me!”

Ai’lanynn’s enthusiasm made him feel happy, for no other reason than it brought brightness to his dark apartment, that it encouraged his body to move just for the joy of it. It was impossible to think of Zash, or Shastine, Gatten or Praven, or his parents, when Ai’lanynn was beaming at him so, bopping the side of her hips against his and laughing. He danced alongside her, and for that moment he wasn’t a Sith, or a fallen Jedi, he was just himself, celebrating nothing more eventful than merely being alive.

When the song ended, they collapsed on the couch, breathless and spent. Ai’lanynn’s color was high, making her pink skin even rosier. She sighed, the long, pleasant, satiated sigh of someone deep in the throes of contentment.

“I’ve never been so happy.” She stretched her legs out and splayed her arms across the couch. “I’m going to see my family again soon, and I belong to no one. Life is good.”

“Yes, it is,” Mordivai said. For this brief moment, he actually believed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't sure where I wanted to put the dividing line between the end of this chapter and the next, and it all came down to whether I wanted to end on a negative note or a positive one. I felt like the story maybe needed a bit of happiness somewhere, since Mordivai had been through a lot so far! I also spent a lot of time thinking about how he should kill Shastine. I wanted something that reflected his conflicted feelings towards becoming Sith and his confusion about who he is now. I decided to try and play around with the trope of the enemy who just keeps coming back after the hero's back is turned. I think that trope exists to give the hero an "out," to allow him to kill the bad guy without sullying himself by killing in cold blood when the enemy is down. That way, it becomes an act of self defense. But what happens when the hero is wrong and the enemy wasn't about to attack him after all? Now, Shastine's death isn't about her anymore, it's about Mordivai and his inexperience, coupled with his paranoia after the trauma of Korriban. That was my goal anyway. Thanks for reading!


	15. Where Madness Lies in Wait

The space station was bustling with people, even at this odd hour. Ai’lanynn sat in a hard, ugly chair next to him, picking at the end of one of her lekku, while Mordivai took mindless bites from a Bantha burger, not feeling very hungry.

From the corner of his eye, Mordivai saw Ai’lanynn jerk upright and then leap from her chair. When he looked up she was already sprinting across the room towards a matronly female Twi’lek who was also running with her arms outstretched. The two women collided, and the older one began sobbing openly, stroking Ai’lanynn’s lekku. Mordivai dropped his burger in a nearby trash can and stood a polite distance away, waiting to be noticed.

Watching Ai’lanynn’s happy reunion with her aunt gave Mordivai a pang of regret. His childhood fantasies of reuniting with his parents had looked at a lot like this, but the reality had been far different. Still, he felt a bittersweet satisfaction in seeing Ai’lanynn find freedom again, and knowing he had righted such wrongs.

After some time, Ai’lanynn’s aunt approached, a trembling smile on her face. Ai’lanynn’s cheeks were shiny with tears, but they dimpled into an enormous smile the moment he caught her eye.

“Auntie Jae,” she said. “This is the Jedi who took me away from slavery. He saved my life,” she paused to wipe at her eye with a sleeve, “..in more ways than he knows.”

Jae beamed at him with such glowing approval that Mordivai felt his face grow hot

“I can never thank you enough, Jedi, for everything.” She reached out and clutched at his arm, squeezing it a moment before releasing him.

When she turned away, Mordivai glanced at Ai’lanynn. 

“You called me a Jedi. You know I’m not-”

“Shhh, Mordivai,” Ai’lanynn said. “I know what you are.”

“I went to Korriban, I...I did things…”

“Sometimes we all have to do things to get by,” Ai’lanynn said. “That doesn’t change who we are-” she stepped forward and tapped him on the chest, “-inside. You will always be a Jedi to me. A Jedi in Sith robes.” She laughed, easy and confident, and Mordivai simply stared at her, even as she came forward to give him one last embrace.

The citizens of the Republic had the Jedi to look out for them, to advocate for them, to protect them. Who did the people of the Empire have on their side? Not the Sith, who reveled in their superior station and power, even going to far as to be the very cause of their own people’s suffering. _The Empire needs its own Jedi,_ Mordivai thought. _Too bad there is no such thing._

00o00

Mordivai’s apartment felt too quiet and empty when he returned. He slumped onto the couch, recalling how only a few days before, he and Ai’lanynn had danced through his living room. How long had it been since he had laughed with someone? Danced? Felt carefree and happy? He pulled his comm unit from his pocket and checked that he still had Ai’lanynn’s frequency saved. No doubt she would get caught up in her own life now, her new life, but at least he could make the effort to keep in touch. Ai’lanynn was the first friend he could recall having had in a long time. Did Sith have friends? Or did they have only allies and rivals?

Ai’lanynn had called him a Jedi. Jedi didn’t kill enemies when their backs were turned, didn’t break into houses seeking duels for justice, didn’t stalk through hallways murdering other students out of fury and vengeance. Yet, Sith didn’t befriend and rescue slaves either.

_I am a failure as a Jedi and a Sith._ Mordivai laughed aloud, shaking his head. _I don’t know what I am._

00o00

Mordivai’s boots echoed throughout the vaulted ceilings as he and Khem Val entered the ancient Sith temple on the outskirts of Kaas City. For a ruin, the temple was in surprisingly good shape and far better preserved than the remains of Kaleth on Tython. Mordivai expected to see more moss and mildew, being that the temple was so steeped in the humidity of the jungle. Perhaps the thick miasma of dark power here drove out even those hardy forms of life. In some places the walls weeped rainwater, and Mordivai could hear dripping sounds in the distance, so not all of the temple had been spared the elements. It was hard to believe that such a lonely place lay buried in the jungle only a speeder’s ride away from the lights and bustle of Kaas City.

Lord Zash was highly interested in collecting ancient knowledge, which Mordivai could appreciate. However, he had yet to become privy to whatever enlightenment she gleaned from the artifacts Mordivai brought her. Getting a position as Zash’s apprentice had been held up as such an honor, yet so far Mordivai didn’t feel like he was much more than a convenient tool for his master. She had also offered his help to a Sith by the name of Lord Alaric, and now he had two meaningless assignments to complete instead of one.

Lord Alaric wanted Mordivai to use a welding torch to seal shut the tombs of some long dead Sith lords. Mordivai wondered if there was an insult implied in this task, or if he was being tested in some way. What danger could these ghosts truly pose? The temple was said to inspire madness, which Mordivai had no trouble believing, especially after witnessing the dark side power in Kaleth in his days as a Jedi. However, he did not believe that sealing these tombs would keep the bodiless spirits from emerging, nor did he think that the temple’s ancient power could be contained so easily. Perhaps this was only a test of his willingness to obey, or as a way to humble him before his betters. Or maybe it was even intended to make him angry enough to seek retribution. He was no mechanic or construction worker. What was he doing lugging around this welding torch?

As he moved deeper into the temple, Mordivai was surprised to encounter another apprentice. He came upon her hunched over a fallen slab of stone, which she appeared to be trying to decipher. He stepped toward her cautiously, and gave her a nod as he passed by.

Her head snapped up with a feral hiss, and that’s when Mordivai noticed that her clothes were stained and ragged, and her hair hung in greasy ropes around her face. She was more of a vagabond than a Sith, and she was clearly not sane.

Mordivai made to back away, but the apprentice shifted on the balls of her feet and then sprang at him with a guttural cry. Her lunge hit him with the full force of her body, knocking him off his feet before he had a chance to ignite his lightsaber. For a flashing instant, Mordivai got a close-up view of her dirt-smeared fingers as they clutched at his throat, and then Mordivai’s weapon came alive in his hand. He swung, taking her forearms clean off. She toppled forward, and he rolled away from underneath her. He came to his feet in time to see Khem stomping her head repeatedly into the stone floor. He was crushing her skull like a melon, and his feet were already slick with bloody pulp. Mordivai looked away, sickened.

“That’s enough!”

The smashing sounds ended. Mordivai breathed slowly, but the air reeked with the tang of the apprentice’s blood. He glanced at her body once more and noticed that she had not even been carrying a weapon. She had tried to attack him with her bare hands.

“She’s dead. Let’s go.” He moved away quickly, not checking to see if Khem followed.

As he ventured deeper into the temple, Mordivai spotted other figures scuttering about the dark temple hallways, and he took care to avoid them. He checked the rough map Lord Alaric had given him, and made his way to the first tomb door. It was a monstrosity of reinforced metal nearly twice as tall as he was. Mordivai climbed the short series of steps to get close.

The door shuddered and an unearthly roar erupted from behind it, startling Mordivai so badly that he nearly fell backwards down the stairs. There was no way any natural creature could still be alive in there after all these centuries. But Sithspawn could survive. Mordivai waited a few moments, breathing slowly until the rumbling on the other side of the door subsided. Whether the creature behind the door was there to guard the tomb or to be the occupant’s jailor was a mystery, and not one that Mordivai felt the need to solve. He welded the door shut quickly and moved on to the next.

He came to a spiral staircase made of huge blocks of stone. The central, supporting pillar drove through the multiple levels of the temple like a twisted spine, leading both up and down. Mordivai hesitated, unsure of how to interpret his map. Upwards, the air was lofty and dotted with cobwebs, while the steps leading down descended into a darkness that smelled thick with damp and mold. Mordivai instinctively wanted to go up, but something else, some primitive intuition perhaps, urged him into the bowels below. He set his feet against the sloped and pitted steps and headed down into shadow.

His eyes adjusted as he descended, revealing a basement area with a low ceiling. He had expected it to be a wide open expanse like the upper levels, but instead it appeared to be a network of hallways and small rooms. The stone floor here was chipped and broken, and strange iridescent mushrooms huddled against the corners of the walls, providing specks of glowing light. Mordivai walked onward, choosing the corredor directly before him, and was surprised when, after a time, the floor began to slope downward even further. He saw a dark patch in the middle of the floor up ahead which Mordivai took to be a puddle. But when he got close, he saw that the floor had instead fallen away, revealing a black pit from which even damper, mustier smells were wafting. Could there possibly be yet another basement level below this one?

Mordivai carefully stepped around the hole and continued on. Khem was a comforting presence at his back, and Mordivai reminded himself that the creature’s penchant for violence had always been used protect his master. It was good to not be alone in a place like this.

Mordivai passed another dark hallway that intersected with his. He peered down it. Blocks of stone had fallen from the ceiling, making the corredor a jumbled mess of debris. For a moment, he thought he saw a human-like shape standing just past the debris pile, but then Mordivai’s eyes adjusted and it faded away. He moved quickly on.

A scream ripped through the darkness then, and Mordivai spun around to look behind him, his lightsaber already in his hand, certain that the noise had come from the hallway he had just passed. His heart pounded in his ears.

“What is it, master?”

“Didn’t you hear it?” Mordivai was afraid to raise his voice above a whisper. “That scream.” He stared at Khem but the Dashade just looked back at him blankly.

“I heard nothing. The ghosts of this place are getting to you, little Sith.”

“Well,” Mordivai said, feeling more disturbed by the second, “that was some lively ghost.”

He hurried ahead. In the aftermath of the scream, the silence of this place felt oppressive, and Mordivai realized that even the faint sounds of dripping water had stopped. Mordivai listened to the rise and fall of his own breathing, and the steady clop of his boots against the stone. What was he here to find again? He rubbed his temple. The tomb, yes, that was it. He had to be close by now.

As Mordivai walked on, his surroundings began to feel familiar. He couldn’t imagine how that was possible, but something about the place pried at his memory, and whenever Mordivai tried to capture the thought, it skittered away and was lost again. Perhaps it reminded him of his trials in the underground tunnels of Kaleth, he decided. Like then, he had an important job to do here. In fact, he realized, they might have even started without him. He picked up his pace.

Ahead of him, there was another cry, but this one was weaker, and ended in a choking sob. If they broke the prisoner before he got there, he was going to be very angry. Hadn’t he told them to wait? Voices echoed from the rooms ahead of him, someone barking out a laugh, followed by a female voice whimpering pleas for mercy.

“Lord Varusin will make you talk,” the male voice said.

_Yes,_ Mordivai thought, _I will make sure of that. And I will do a better job of it than you clumsy idiots._

He hurried into the room at the end of the hall.

He had barely stepped foot inside when a tight band jerked around his throat, cutting across his windpipe and yanking him backwards off his feet. Treachery! he thought, it has come at last!

“You were about to step off the edge, little Sith.”

Mordivai spun around just as Khem’s three-clawed fingers released the back of his robe.

He was standing in a dark and empty room, lit only by a preponderance of glowing fungus around the edges of the walls. In front of him the floor had completely collapsed. Mordivai tugged at his collar, taking in deep breaths. His toes were practically touching the edge of the last broken stone, and far below he spotted more crushed and broken blocks. The level beneath him was slick with mud and sludge. Mordivai shuddered.

“I thought I was someone else. A Lord Varusin.”

“We are far from where we were,” Khem said. “Finish your task and let us leave this place.”

“Agreed.”

By the time Mordivai reached the staircase that had brought him to this basement level, his spine was crawling with the ever growing realization of just how close he had come to becoming one of the crazed souls here. Or worse yet, just flat out dead. Even more perplexing though was that Khem had chosen to save him rather than let him fall to his death. Surely Khem would be free of his bondage if Mordivai were dead. Why had he acted to save him?

Mordivai reached the top of the steps and paused to look at his map. The tomb he sought was clearly marked as being on the upper level above this one. How had he ever thought otherwise? How easily the madness in this place had slipped into his mind.

The level above was a wide square balcony that ringed the entire temple. Mordivai wandered around but quickly lost his bearings at to which direction he was facing. Once again, it took Khem pointing out the tomb’s door before Mordivai saw it. Somehow he had walked right on past.

He pulled out the torch and approached the door. The air shimmered and a holograph of a man appeared, floating directly in front of him.

“Am I going mad again?” Mordivai started to back away.

“On the contrary,” the man said. “You are first sane individual to have found my tomb in nine hundred and sixty-three years. Even the Sithspawn that once guarded it have long since perished. Have my contemporaries truly lived in fear of me for so long?”

“Lord Alaric said you were the source of the madness here in this temple.”

“In my time, my ideas were considered heresy by the Emperor, but no one ever called me mad.” The man in the holo image rubbed his chin and shook his head before continuing. “I am Kel’eth Ur. I created this interactive holoimage before I died to preserve my secrets...and to someday transmit them to whoever was bold enough to find me.”

“This temple is feared even by the Sith themselves now. Few ever come here, and I suspect even fewer ever leave.”

“That is a shame then,” Kel’eth Ur said. “The Sith still elevate fear above all other passions? They say it brings them strength, but see how it hinders and controls them. Real strength comes when one is no longer afraid.”

“That makes sense.”

“It is no accident then that you were the one to find my tomb. The Sith must let the Force guide them. There is no fear, no passion, no power that is greater than the Force. I am one with the Force now, and I am at peace.”

“There is no death, there is only the Force,” Mordivai said quietly, the Jedi mantra coming easily to his lips.

“Yes. You understand.”

“I see why the Sith were afraid of your ideas.”

“Take my teachings to the Sith, to those that will hear them. They will find power there. Not of darkness, but of light. The Sith must know that there is another way.”

“I can try, but-”

“My message is concluded then and I will depart. Thank you.” Kel’eth Ur’s image disappeared.

“Wait!”

There was a clicking sound, like of a clamp releasing, and a holocron embedded in the door, which Mordivai had initially taken for a mere decoration, fell out and hit the floor. Mordivai bent and scooped it up.

Should Mordivai take this back to Lord Alaric? He stared at the little box in his hand. This was exactly the type of knowledge that the Sith wanted to erase. And what had changed since Kel’leth Ur’s days?

Mordivai was eager to leave the temple and return to the comforts of civilization. As he approached the archeological camp where Lord Alaric was waiting, however, he slowed his steps. If Mordivai handed him the holocron, would Lord Alaric see fit to bury it so deeply in some hidden library that it would never be seen again? Or worse yet, would he simply destroy it? The little holocron glowed faintly in his hand, all the knowledge of Kel’eth Ur stored safely inside it, preserved all these millennia in the hopes of some intrepid explorer finding it. Mordivai carefully tucked the holocron into his robes, making his decision. He rode the Kaas City speeder home with his hand pressed against the holocron in his pocket all the while.

He returned to his apartment to find a digital message waiting for him in his mailbox. It was encrypted in such a way that the sender’s name had been obscured and all that it contained was a set of coordinates, a date and time, and three sentences.

_You have impressed me. I wish to meet you. Come alone._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The events of this chapter were inspired by the side quest "Buried Power" on Dromund Kaas. Next chapter: _A Dangerous Offer_


	16. A Dangerous Offer

“Wait here, Khem. Come only if I call.”

Mordivai left the clearing and headed down the jungle trail. He had to step over a fallen sign which read, “Keep our trails clean!” followed by another one roughy tacked to the first that said, “Trail CLOSED by Imperial Order DEL-5693. Department of Leisure.” The ground was spongy and damp, and already overgrown with briars, so Mordivai proceeded carefully. He had drawn his lightsaber and had pulled back his hood for better visibility. Rain pelted his head and dripped down the back of his neck. He wasn’t sure if coming here was wise, but when dealing with the Sith, it was better to face problems head-on. If someone was looking to challenge him, they would find him another way, and next time perhaps without the advanced warning.

He moved as quietly as he was able while scanning the surrounding vegetation. He reached out with Force power to see if he could sense his opponent, and simultaneously tried to mute his own. The trail eventually ended at an overlook with a few picnic tables and a partially broken fence designed to keep hapless hikers from falling down into the valley. Mordivai stopped and performed a slow turn. He saw no one, felt no one.

A rustle from above startled him and he tumbled out of the way just as a figure leapt at him from one of the trees overhead. With a blur, Mordivai dodged the whirling blade of a double lightsaber, and caught the sight of a red face covered in tattoos before he was immediately forced to parry another strike. Mordivai struggled to keep the advancing Sith off of him, but his mind was a buzz with secondary thoughts. Who would want him dead? Not Zash surely. She could have killed him easily and he had barely entered her service. Someone getting revenge on Shastine? It didn’t matter. He just wanted to stay alive.

The Sith was using moves Mordivai had never seen or been taught, and Mordivai began to suspect that it was only a matter of time until he was beaten. He opened his mouth to give a shout to Khem when the Sith dropped into a crouch and spun, knocking Mordivai’s legs out from underneath him. He fell to the turf with a grunt, his breath pushed clean out of him.

“Good,” the Sith said. “Sharp reflexes, solid instincts. I almost didn’t even see you enter, you hid your presence so well.”

“What?” Mordivai managed.

The Sith tossed back his hood and Mordivai stared into the stern face of a Twi’lek. In addition to the tattoos across his face and down his lekku, he also wore the branded markings of a former slave. Mordivai closed his mouth, realizing that he was gaping.

“I have an offer for you.”

“You mean you’re not trying to kill me?”

“Only testing your mettle. I’ve been watching you, but needed to see for myself. Who taught you the mind manipulation?”

“I have no idea what you are talking about.”

The Twi’lek put away his lightsaber and took on a more casual stance. “You do it naturally then? Interesting talent. You were able to cloud my mind enough to stay hidden from me as you came down the trail, making you virtually invisible to even Force sight. I am Kryos, one of the overseers at the Sith Academy.”

Mordivai got to his feet, a bundle of nerves awakening in his stomach at the mention of the Academy.

Kryos continued. “You survived the insanity of the Sith temple, and you took it upon yourself to rid us all of that annoying piece of fluff, Shastine. Congratulations, by the way.”

“You know about that?”

“I make it my business to know. Mordivai, I would like to offer you a place among the ranks of the Sith assassins. You have already started on the path, and with advanced training, I can teach you to become unstoppable.”

“I am already apprenticed to Lord Zash.”

Kryos chuckled. “Don’t worry about Zash. She deserves to have her feathers ruffled every now and then. She won’t interfere.”

“Will you teach me to use a double-bladed lightsaber?”

“You will get a new blade, and I will teach you move unseen, to better defend yourself and others, and I will show you how to make a clean and silent kill. We will hold your lessons here on Dromund Kaas. What do you say?”

“Are you basically asking me to become a hitman?”

“I see we’ll have to work on your moral compulsions. Don’t worry. Accepting training from me does not make you beholden to anyone. But you will earn the means to eliminate your enemies with better efficiency and skill.”

Mordivai let the silence stretch for a few beats before answering. “All right then. I accept.”

Kryos smiled, revealing a set of pointed white teeth within his red face. “Good. We will start tomorrow.”

00o00

Mordivai began regular practice sessions with Overseer Kryos, perfecting not only his combat skills with a double-bladed saber, but learning to harness his budding abilities in mind manipulation. Mordivai recalled how he had hidden from the Sith on the Esseles when they had been searching through the passengers, looking for a red-head. He had also slipped into Shastine’s manor, right past Ai’lanynn, without her noticing him. Now he was learning to perform these same feats more reliably, and to better fool other Force users. With practice, he was able to cloud minds so effectively that he became nearly invisible for long stretches of time, even while creeping about.

If Lord Zash was put out by his having a new tutor, she hid it well. Unlike most Sith, who openly assessed each other so that they could exploit weaknesses, Zash treated his self-improvements as a boon, praising his progress and musing about ways in which she could use his new skills. She was particularly interested in taking advantage of his proficiencies in subterfuge. So it was that Mordivai was sent away on a mission to far away Balmorra, a war-torn planet that the Empire had lost fifteen years ago to the local separatist faction. The Balmorran government had lost no time in allying themselves once again with the Republic, but that didn’t deter Zash from digging up a cover identity and background for Mordivai so that he could travel there unmolested.

Mordivai stood now in a warehouse that had once been a cave, looking out over the wide open floor from his booth high on the cave’s southern end. Dozens of Jedi from the Exploration Corps swarmed below, packing flora and fauna samples for shipment back to Tython. They were seeking to determine how the war had affected the environment here on Balmorra, and were particularly concerned with the loss of a few species all within the last ten years. Mordivai had learned more about the ecosystem of Balmorra in these past two weeks than he figured most people did in a lifetime. He soaked up the knowledge, trying to appear interested and trying to play the part. He was after all, supposed to be a Jedi assigned here t oversee the operation, and until his mission was accomplished, he had to keep at bay any suspicion as to his real identity and motives.

If only the Empire hadn’t lost Balmorra to the rebels, none of this would have been necessary. The artifact Zash needed this time, however, was hidden perilously close to the Balmorran Arms Factory, deep within a military base. As luck would have it, the ExplorCorps had a research site in the mountains nearby, and so Zash made arrangements for Mordivai to take the place of a new Jedi who had been assigned as warehouse manager for this unit. Mordivai was not privvy to how the real Jedi who had been given the job had been disposed of, and he knew better than to ask. He had also never been trained in infiltration, but Zash assured him that his years spent as a Jedi would make this little ruse easy.

She had way too much faith in him.

It hadn’t been easy at all. He hated wearing a dead Jedi’s clothes, carrying the man’s lightsaber (it had been modified to release a second, hidden blade at the opposite end when activated), and taking over the dead man’s old life. He hated the way the other Jedi smiled at him, tried to make polite conversation, or invited him to join them at lunch. He was grateful that the members of the ExplorCorps all had Force sensitivity that was much less developed than his. Otherwise, he was certain that they would have found him out by now. His discomfort with the whole operation had to have been oozing off him in waves.

He was almost done, thankfully. He’d pinpointed the location of Tulak Hord’s lost artifact and had made arrangements with the medical staff here to have him properly outfitted against the harsh environment which he would have to enter. The artifact had been buried in a vault which had been converted into a toxic waste pit. He had had some explaining to do as to why he needed to enter such a place, but he gave out what tiny shreds of the truth that he could. Lies were easier that way. He was on an errand for a scholarly Jedi on Coruscant, who was seeking an ancient text on the burial practices of some long dead civilization. Mordivai didn’t want anyone else growing curious about this artifact which he was so determined to obtain, and so he hoped his explanation sounded mundane.

There was a knock on the door and a Jedi youth with a massive cowlick across his forehead entered.

“Where would you like these reports, Master Cale?”

“On the table is fine. Sort each set into those bins.”

The Jedi nodded and began organizing the holodiscs. Mordivai continued to stare out the window. He had been eyeing the same person working down below for some time now, he realized, and suddenly he knew why.

The woman looked like Zayla.

Mordivai felt his heart pick up pace, both with excitement and dread. Was it really her? Her blonde hair was shorter now, but she had the same, familiar habit of tossing it back with her hand and hooking it behind her ear. Her injured arm, which had been removed at the elbow the last time Mordivai had seen her, had been replaced by a cybernetic one. She used it effortlessly, as if she had had many years of practice getting used to it. She was working fast, chatting occasionally with the Jedi next to her, and pausing to mark down crate numbers on a datapad. She looked happy. She had gotten her dream of being a member of the ExplorCorps after all.

Mordivai had so much he had wanted to say to her. Was it worth giving away his identity? That would be foolish, surely, and years had passed. It was likely that she had forgotten him by now.

Given the rustling sounds, the Padawan behind him was getting ready to leave. Mordivai had to make a decision. Once the opportunity was gone, he would probably never see Zayla again.

“Wait,” he called to the Padawan.

“Yes, Master Cale?”

“Will you please...uh, there’s someone I need to speak to down there. Zayla? Do you know her?”

“Of course,” he answered. “I’ll send her right up.”

Mordivai turned away, his stomach roiling so badly that he felt a little sick. Would she be angry with him? He had so much to apologize for. Would she denounce him? Could he trust her?

He fidgeted nervously at the window, finally deciding to pull up his hood. He needed her fully inside the room, with the door closed, before he showed her who he was.

He heard her approach on the stairs outside, then the sound of the door unlatching and pulling open. He could feel her presence behind him. She was curious and a bit concerned. Perhaps she thought he’d caught her doing something wrong.

The door clicked shut behind her.

“Master Cale? You wanted to see me?”

Mordivai turned away from the window. “Thank you for coming,” he quietly.

Her face was a mess of scars crisscrossing her cheek and chin. She held her hands clasped together, her whole hand lightly covering the cybernetic one. It was more like a claw and had only three fingers. No one would have called her pretty, not anymore. Mordivai felt his heart leap at the sight of her anyway. He would have given anything to see her smile again.

“You know my name but I don’t think we have met.” She peered into his hood.

There was no backing out now. In a few moments, he would have all his questions answered, for good or for ill. There was no point in prolonging the anguish any longer.

Mordivai pulled back his hood and let it fall against his back. “Do you remember me, Zayla?”

Her eyes widened and her good hand flew to her mouth. For several long seconds nothing happened. Then, finally, she spoke.

“Mord?”

She took a step closer, and then a smile, oh yes, _that_ smile that Mordivai remembered so well, spread across her face.

“It is you! Oh my stars...Mord, I thought you were dead! I’d heard about Master Gatten, and I thought...but weren’t you captured by the Imperials?”

“Master Gatten is dead, just like you heard. I saw…” He paused, startled by the lump that had appeared in his throat, “I saw it happen.”

“Oh. Mord, I’m so sorry. We all were. And Master Praven too? I’d only heard about him, but you know,” she smiled, almost wistfully, “….everyone knew Master Praven.”

“Master Praven was captured. I don’t know what happened to him.” Mordivai stared at the floor, trying not to think about Praven’s unlucky fate. He was certain that by now Praven had suffered a gruesome and protracted death. Mordivai cleared his thoughts, trying to focus. The conversation was venturing into dangerous territory and he needed to redirect it fast.

“I brought you here because there’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you.”

“There is?”

“I just...I wanted to say I’m sorry. About, you know, that day. And...everything that happened. I never should have kept you out by the ruins for so long. If we hadn’t got talking...and...and everything...then-”

Zayla was shaking her head. “I don’t blame you for what happened. I take full responsibility for my actions too, you know. I asked you to come. We made our mistakes, Mord, but what happened is over. And besides,” she paused and gave him a smile that turned his legs to water, “you saved my life out there that day.”

“You’re not angry?”

“No, why should I be? Now we’ve both got scars.” She shrugged and gestured at her face and hand, looking away quickly after. Mordivai realized that she was self-conscious about her appearance. It pained him to see.

“I still think you’re beautiful.”

She laughed and poked her toe at the floor. “Thanks, Mord. I appreciate that.”

“I mean it, you know.” He did. To hell with her scars and her hand. He’d take her in his arms right now and show her just how serious he was if decorum allowed it.

She sensed the shift in the conversational mood and he could tell that she was growing nervous. She changed the subject.

“So…” She studied him, her face growing thoughtful. “...what about you? Where have you been all this time? How did you escape?”

Mordivai could see that this conversation was still far from over. Why hadn’t he thought this through?

“I didn’t escape.”

“Did the Empire...did they let you go?”

She still didn’t understand, Mordivai realized. Her face grew distant, her mind working on the details, hammering them one by one into place. Then he felt a chill come over the room.

“There’s a reason you never came back to Tython then.” There was a pause, and then Zayla's voice came out meek and small. “You’re not a Jedi any longer, are you?”

Mordivai couldn’t bring himself to utter the words. He watched her expression change.

Zayla clapped her hand over her mouth again and shook her head as if to clear the thought away.

“Mord...why are you here? Are you...are you a spy? Was there a real Master Cale? No, I don’t want to know any more about this.” She took a step backwards and shot a glance at the door.

“I didn’t have a hand in that. I swear to you. What happened to Master Cale was already done before I even knew of it.”

Her whole demeanor had changed. Gone was her smile, her light-hearted, nervous laugh. She radiated shock now, and fear. That was the worst part. She was afraid of him.

“I did what I had to do. You don’t know what it was like...what they did…” _What I did,_ he added to himself. How could he ever explain? He felt angry, suddenly, angry at how little she knew about the galaxy. How could she judge him?

She had started for the door.

“Zayla.” His voice came out sounding stronger than he’d intended. He lowered it a bit and tried to sound calm. “You won’t say anything, will you?”

She stared at him wide eyed, and he saw her eyes flicker to the lightsaber on his belt and back up again.

“I’ll be gone in a day or so,” he continued. “I’m not here to hurt anyone. But I need you to be quiet. My life depends on it. Do you understand?”

She nodded and her voice came out as barely a squeak. “Can I go now?”

“Of course,” Mordivai said. He watched her go. The door latched shut and he was overcome with shame and regret. This is not how he had pictured his apology going. He hadn’t expected her forgiveness, but neither had he expected the strength of her fear and rejection when the rest of the truth became known. He was stupid for not seeing it now.

He slumped into a chair, hating himself more than ever.

00o00

After retrieving the artifact the following day, Mordivai headed straight to his ship and prepared to leave Balmorra behind. He stripped out of the Jedi robes as he was crossing the hangar, and threw them in a nearby waste chute, along with the lightsaber as well. It felt wrong to waste a fine weapon, but keeping it felt worse. He didn’t want any part of that Jedi’s death on his hands.

A good long shower is what he needed, something to erase the chemicals of the toxic vault and the slime of the collicoids off of him. He got the ship into hyperspace as fast as he was abe and then spent the next half hour in the refresher. He didn’t think any amount of water would ever get him clean enough.

When he came out, he saw the holoterminal was blinking with a saved message. Zash, no doubt, already eager for his report and ready to send him on to the next world. He hadn’t been lying when he told people he was an errand boy. He had, literally, killed to secure this job with Zash, and now all she wanted him to do was fetch things for her that she was too lazy to find herself. He didn’t buy for a minute her claim that these artifacts would make him more powerful than ever. No Sith gave away power to another. No, these artifacts would be for her benefit alone. Mordivai may have not worn a slave collar any longer, but he recognized the feel of slavery just the same. He was trapped in this new life as a Sith, just as he had been trapped at the Sith Academy and trapped in Lord Shastine’s service. When would he ever be free of it all?

He hit the button on the holoterminal and started to walk away. He stopped as soon as he heard the voice. It wasn’t Zash.

Zayla’s image hovered in the air over the terminal, almost life-sized. She looked apologetic and sad.

“I’m sorry for the way I acted yesterday, Mord. I’m not angry and I don’t hate you for what you’ve done. I want to help you. Come back to Tython and you can start over…”

Her words blended into a meaningless jumble. Mordivai didn’t care to hear the rest. He could never go back to Tython. He could never be a Jedi. That life was over and gone. Zayla didn’t understand at all. He shut off the message and wandered to bed for an early sleep, feeling more weary than he had in weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I think I mentioned that I started this story a good while back originally, before setting it aside and then taking it up again. Overseer Kryos used to be the NPC you spoke to on the Fleet as an Inquisitor when it was time to choose your advanced class. He's since been removed.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and Happy early Valentine's Day!


	17. Cult of Opportunity

Mordivai settled down at the bar, trying to look casual. A Mirialan woman a few seats over blew some smoke in his direction and gave him a quizzical stare. Lord Zash said that he would be meeting his two contacts here. She had chosen the seediest cantina on Nar Shaddaa to do it in, and Mordivai wondered if the people he would be working with would be as hard on their luck as the patrons of this bar. The reasonings and plans of his master were rarely revealed to him, and as usual, he had little to go on. Zash’s cheerful, unfailing confidence was unnerving at times. He was after another ancient Sith artifact - he knew only that it was some kind of pendant - and he was supposed to wrench it from another Sith’s possession. Zash had dismissed this Sith as a threat, although Mordivai was not yet convinced of her assessment. For not the first time, Mordivai wondered if Zash was surreptitiously trying to get him killed.

“Lord Paladius has been toying for the past few years with some little cult he’s got worshipping him,” Zash had said. “I’ve found you some disgruntled ex-members who I’m sure will be happy to help you track him down. Good luck!”

_Good luck indeed._ Mordivai glanced around. He was too well dressed for such an establishment, too young-looking, and a stranger. Mordivai drew back his outer robe and hooked it behind the hilt of his lightsaber, making sure that the weapon was on clear display. It would be better, he decided, to try and head off any trouble rather than wait for trouble to come to him.

“Nice try kid, but we both know that thing ain’t real.”

It was the Mirialan again, this time flashing him a set of mismatched teeth in shades that weren’t natural. Mordivai wasn’t sure if dental care was just that bad on Nar Shaddaa’s lower levels or if she was making some kind of fashion statement. She gave him a wink and tossed back her drink. There was a faint murmur from her direction, but Mordivai couldn’t catch the words.

“Excuse me?”

“I said,” she paused and leaned forward, enunciating every word as if he were deaf or stupid. “I know that thing ain’t real.” She jabbed a finger toward lightsaber on his belt. “Cute though.”

Again, the muttering flittered through his head, but Mordivai was staring right at her this time, and clearly saw that her lips hadn’t moved. With surprise, he realized that he was catching glimpses of her thoughts, broadcasted to him loud as day. Mordivai had spent nearly all his life surrounded by Force users, all trained in the art of concealing their thoughts from others. He was shocked at how easily he had seen into hers. Even Ai’lanynn and Skiro had not been as open as this spacer. She thought him some stupid kid and had pegged him for an easy mark. In fact, she was planning to rob him as soon as he left the bar.

Mordivai fancied the idea of putting on a little show for this spacer, just he could watch the smirk fall off her face, but he held back, wondering at the wisdom of calling attention to himself. Maybe he could find-

“My lord? Is that you?”

Mordivai looked up to see a young woman weaving towards him. Her dark eyes searched his face in earnest. “Lord Zash’s apprentice?”

Mordivai stood. “Yes, that’s me.”

On the other side of him, the Mirialan was sputtering into her cup, shaking her head and thinking about all the crazy things kids will tell girls just to get laid. Mordivai pushed her intrusive thoughts out of his head.

“I knew it!” the new woman was saying. “Destris said it couldn’t be, that you were way too young, but I said you fit the description, with the hair and the…” she paused, her eyes flicking over his face, no doubt staring at his scar.

“You found me. Is there somewhere we can talk?”

“Oh! Of course. Destris and I got a table right over there.” She gestured to the far side of the room, where a sullen young man was slouched in a chair, his arms folded. Mordivai followed her over.

The man she had called Destris grunted and nodded in Mordivai’s direction, not even bothering to stand in greeting. His expression was bored and disinterested, a far cry from the eager politeness Mordivai was picking up from the girl. Destris nodded to an empty chair and Mordivai took it.

“So, this is Destris and I’m Rylee. What should we call you, my lord?”

“Mordivai.”

“Pleased to meet you Lord Mordivai.”

“Just Mordivai is fine.”

Mordivai folded his hands and studied his new contacts. Rylee had dark skin and dark, curious eyes, whereas Destris was paler, his features sharp and cunning. “So,” Mordivai ventured, “you have left Lord Paladius’s service?”

Destris snorted and sat forward, thumping his boots on the floor. “You could say that. Bastard took us for all we were worth and then gave us nothing but lies. Zash says you’ll see him dead. You good enough to do that?”

“Zash said that, did she?” Funny, Mordivai thought, Zash had said nothing about killing any Sith lords to him. He wondered which one of them was telling the truth. “I thought I was here to collect an artifact.”

“Kill him and then you can peel whatever trinket you’re after off his body.”

Rylee perked up in her chair, looking alarmed. “What Destris means, my lord, is that we can help each other. Take whatever you want of Paladius’s, but we would be grateful if you freed the rest of our brothers and sisters from him.”

“So, this is about revenge? Or something else?”

Mordivai looked at each of them and watched their hesitation. Perhaps they were not as united in their goals as he had been led to believe.

“Paladius promised us we’d see justice. Promised us an army, promised us freedom!” Destris slammed his fist on the table. “In a year, he said we’d be in our rightful place, not being shit upon by the self-righteous butt-lickers above us!”

“Destris!” Rylee hissed, but he was ignoring her.

“But where are we now, huh?” he continued. “It’s been three years! Our work feeds his fat belly, fills his house with shiny statues and shit. But still we toil in his casinos, getting nowhere. Where is the ‘day of revolution’ he promised us?”

Was this some kind of political activist cult? Mordivai felt out of his element. He knew nothing of the daily lives of the people of Nar Shaddaa. He took a closer look at Rylee and Destris, at Rylee’s worn clothes and the weariness hidden beneath Destris’s anger. What kind of leader was this Paladius?

“What was supposed to happen on the ‘day of revolution?’” he asked.

“An insurrection! A throw-down of massive proportions! Why do you think we’d been stockpiling weapons, ammo, gear? Only Rylee and me found out that there ain’t no gear, no weapons, no stockpile of nothing. It was all a lie! We were supposed to rise up! To-”

“Ok.” Mordivai held out a hand. “I understand. You want me to take out Paladius. And then what happens?”

“Then we take over!”

“After you get your artifact, he means,” Rylee added.

“How do I get to Paladius?”

“Got some floating palace somewhere. Think he’d tell us where it is? You have to smoke him out. Show him there’s a new boss in town. Talks about protecting us, but he’s done nothing. The local gangs are creeping in, giving us trouble and Paladius doesn’t do shit! Shake up some of them gangs and you’ll get noticed. By both sides. Know what I mean?”

So, Mordivai thought. Whatever this artifact was, Zash thought it was worth murdering for, and Destris thought starting a gang war was a fair trade for it. Mordivai was liking this whole scenario less and less with every passing second. _What do_ I _get out of all of this?_

“Destris,” Rylee said quietly, “Looks like Lan’s here for your ride.” She gestured towards the doorway where a skinny rodian was waving in their direction.

“Yeah,” Destris said sullenly. “I see him.” He shuffled to his feet. “Gotta get to work. Any job is better than working for Paladius though, right?”

When Destris had gone out of earshot, Rylee leaned across the table. “He works in sanitation now. The only job he could get.”

“Paladius let you leave his cult?”

Rylee made a tsking noise and shook her head. “No way. We left without telling anyone and now we just try to stay hidden.”

“Have others left before you?”

“No one has actually left that we know of. But people who disobey the rules...disappear. I used to work with this Twi’lek girl, T’zanna, in one of Paladius’s resorts. One of the rules is that we can never take any ‘front facing’ jobs. You know, stuff where we’d have to interact with guests. Well, T’zanna managed to get herself a promotion, all by herself now, without checking with Paladius. She got put out front, as one of the casino waitresses. Real visible and she was pretty, you know? That lasted less than two weeks and then she disappeared. Paladius called us all together, acted all sad, and told us that the rules were for our protection. He said she was too visible and so she got taken.”

“I don’t understand, taken by whom?”

Rylee looked down and began fiddling with a cheap bracelet around her wrist, twirling it rapidly about. “I don’t know. Gangs, organ harvesters, slavers, pimps, who knows?”

“Do they normally just kidnap people like that?”

Rylee shrugged, still refusing to look him in the eye. “Guess so.”

Something wasn’t adding up here, but Mordivai couldn’t fit it together. It was obvious that Paladius controlled his cult members out of fear, but why were they were convinced that merely “being visible” made them targets? Was crime truly that commonplace on Nar Shaddaa?

“Why did you join up with Paladius in the first place?”

“Times were tough. I needed money and I didn’t want to…” Rylee chanced a quick glance at his face and Mordivai saw desperation there, “...I wanted respectable work. Paladius gave us all jobs, food, clothes, med droids, a barracks to stay in. It was great at first, so I didn’t mind that the bulk of my pay went to the group. Seemed only fair, you know? But eventually, you realize that there is never enough to actually save for anything, never enough to let you stand on your own if you decided to get out.”

“So, you don’t share Destris’s hopes for a revolution?”

“ _Our chains will be broken._ ” Rylee rolled her eyes. “When the time is right, Paladius claimed we would get…” Rylee paused, then appeared to backtrack as if unwilling to finish the thought. “Like Destris said, we’d move up in the world. Eventually.”

“Did he ever try and teach you any skills? You said that this Twi’lek you knew hadn’t asked his permission to take the promotion. Did he give out promotions of his own?”

“No,” Rylee said quickly. Mordivai waited for her to elaborate, but her lips were pressed tight as she stared at him with wide, unblinking eyes.

“Well, I don’t blame you for leaving. Sounds unfair.” Apparently that was all he would get out of her on that account. Mordivai sat back in his chair.

Rylee nodded, her shoulders rising and falling like she was trying to catch a breath. She had been wound tight as a coil, Mordivai realized, but now she looked more at ease. _Now that I’ve stopped asking questions._ She was hiding something. Was she just embarrassed about being caught up in Paladius’s promises?

“So, my lord.” Rylee was twirling her bracelet again. “Destris wanted you attack the local gangs, but I had another idea. Just...if you wanted to consider it too. As an option.”

“Go ahead.”

“You would have a lot more help in your efforts if you could get the attention of the other cult members. If you helped people, showed them that you were working for their interests...you know, they might start looking to you instead of Paladius. It would draw Paladius out and help out our cause in getting others to leave.”

“Did you have something particular in mind?”

“There’s this company in the Nikto sector, Tydis Neutronics. They make vaccines and stims and stuff. They have a cure for the Rot but it’s expensive. Have you seen the people on the streets my lord? It’s going around. It’s treatable but people are dying. Paladius puts some version of the vaccine in our water supply, but it needs a regular dose to stay effective. We often talked about leaving Paladius, but people were afraid they’d get sick without access to our treated water.” Rylee held out her hands in resignation. “You could...you know, steal some of their vaccine. It’s a more powerful version. One dose is all it takes. Spread it around and it would be one less thing for Paladius to hold over our heads.”

Mordivai nodded. “Tell me about this company. Where do I go?”

A half an hour later Mordivai was back on the street, going over the plan in his head. He liked Rylee’s idea. It was a targeted strike that would chip away at Paladius’s power while simultaneously benefitting the cult members. Was Rylee the true brains of the resistance? Destris liked to talk big, but he was a blunt object, good for smashing indiscriminately but not much else. Rylee might be the one to watch.

Mordivai had been strolling with his head down, his mind replaying this evening’s conversation, when he realized that he was being followed. Night had stolen over the city, although this far down the lower levels the sky was lit by too many lights for night to distinguish itself from the day. Mordivai walked through a patch of light cast by a brightly colored street lamp and reached out with his senses. He wasn’t surprised to sense the Mirialan thug from the bar. She was quiet of foot, he could give her that at least, but as usual, her thoughts were brazenly obvious. Mordivai slowed, letting her catch up with him, while continuing to stare ahead.

She trailed him like a shadow, gradually gaining, growing more confident with every passing step. Then she shot forward in a frantic rush and Mordivai spun to meet her.

He caught her mid-run, stopping her forward momentum with an invisible wall of Force power, then wrenched a knife from her grasp and caught it in his other hand.

“You don’t want to do this.”

She frowned at him, looking confused.

“You need to pay better attention. I take it you don’t know what a real lightsaber looks like?” Mordivai stepped closer. The Mirialan tried to squirm away but couldn’t, her limbs still frozen in mid-stride, the hand that had once held the knife now extended and empty.

Mordivai lit his blade and held the red glow up for her to see. He sensed the first real hint of fear from her now.

“I know you didn’t really want to hurt me though, right?” He touched her mind, open and receptive to suggestion. “ _You made a mistake._ Run away and don’t try anything so stupid again.”

He released her and she jerked backwards. “Just a mistake. Stupid of me. Right.” Then she turned and bolted back down the street.

Mordivai sheathed his lightsaber and felt for any other nearby presences. He was alone. Good. He had more important things to do tonight.

Like steal a vaccine.


	18. The Hidden Rival

Mist coated the metal corrugated streets and covered Mordivai’s robes in a glossy sheen. It was mid-day on Dromund Kaas, and the street lights filled the sky with warm yellow halos to drive back the gloom. Mordivai thought he would be relieved to leave behind the grime and smog of Nar Shaddaa, even if just for a few days, but the gloominess of Dromund Kaas didn’t cheer him. He stopped in front of a building marked “2708” and craned his neck upwards, shielding his eyes against the rain. The top of the apartment building was lost in the clouds. Somewhere up there his mother waited. He checked his chrono. He was just in time for their planned lunch.

Once inside, Mordivai found the lift and entered. He keyed in the penultimate floor, since the top was restricted access and required a separate elevator. An elderly Pureblood man stepped inside the door just as it was closing, gave Mordivai a once over, and smiled.

“Good afternoon, young Sith.”

Mordivai nodded to him. “Good afternoon, sir.”

The man chuckled. “So polite. But it’s always the quiet ones you have to watch out for, isn’t it?” He gave Mordivai a conspiratorial wink. “Smart lad.”

Mordivai gave him a tight smile, not knowing what else to say. He was already nervous about seeing his mother again and wasn’t in the mood for conversation. It was a relief when the man got off on the 62nd floor and Mordivai was alone for the rest of the trip. The lift sped up as it neared the top, whisking Mordivai up into the clouds with such speed that he felt light headed. When he reached his destination, the doors opened up upon a sumptuous, gold carpeted room, where a security guard sat behind a desk. He sat up straighter as Mordivai stepped out and addressed him immediately.

“Can I help you, my lord?”

“Yes,” Mordivai answered. “I am here to see Morda Quinn.” In most circles, his mother was known as Lord Wrath, but here, in this private enclave, many residents went by their given names, a simple measure that separated their public lives from their private ones.

“Ah, right,” the man said. “Welcome, my lord.” A red light flared out from a front panel of the guard’s desk, scanning over Mordivai’s body. “She is expecting you. You may proceed down the hall to the penthouse lift.”

Mordivai rode the rest of the way up and finally found himself before his parents’ apartment. As he approached, a camera mounted above the door swivelled towards him, its lens telescoping outward to get a better look. The light on the camera blinked from yellow to green and then a chime sounded from within the apartment.

No need to knock or ring a bell when the automated system was there to do it for you. Mordivai wondered what happened to guests who were not recognized and expected.

A moment passed and the door slid open. He was faced with an empty hallway and no one there to greet him. Mordivai stepped in and quietly passed down the hall. At the end waited a tall, formidable assassin droid carrying a rifle. It looked powered down, but Mordivai suspected otherwise. As he approached the eyes lit up.

“Declaration: Greetings young master. Welcome home.”

“I see you’ve gotten some new upgrades HK. You look good.”

“Observation: The young master’s memory is well preserved. I have been outfitted with the latest hardware.”

“Well, maybe you can tell me all about it sometime.”

“Mordivai!”

He looked up to see his mother approaching. She was dressed in a black shirt and pants and her hair was cropped short, just as he had last seen her. Behind her shuffled an elderly twi’lek woman, who unobtrusively slipped off his outer robe and carried it away. Mordivai’s eyes followed her as she disappeared down the hallway. Something about her looked familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it. His mother did not normally own house slaves and he was momentarily confused.

“Is that…?” He held out a hand towards the empty hallway where the slave woman had disappeared.

“You recognize her? It’s been a long time, but I’m sure she remembers you. That’s K’sua.”

“Wait. From grandmother’s house?”

His mother nodded, then gestured for him to follow. “I had planned to tell you over lunch. Your grandmother passed away four years ago, leaving her estate, and all her slaves, to me.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t….I didn’t know.” Mordivai tried to recall where he had been four years ago. He’d been a training with the Jedi on Tython then. He pushed the thought from his mind. Lord Morella had been a Sith to the core, and every bit the image of old Pureblood money and privilege. Her interests were in politicking and socializing, and her parties were indulgent affairs where the elite came to enjoy illicit pleasures. At age eleven, Mordivai had only just begun to get an inkling of exactly what went on at those parties when the shipwreck had torn him from his family.

Morella’s entire estate had been run by her twi’lek house slaves. Mordivai had never considered the practice unusual during his childhood. Morella’s slaves had always appeared content to him, and he had never witnessed any abuse. But he knew that his mother had a close friend who had been a former slave, and he was surprised now to see her using slaves in her home.

“There’s no way you could have known.” His mother led him through the apartment, which was immaculate and understated in its wealth. Unlike his grandmother, who had relished grandiosity, his parents exhibited simpler tastes.

“When did you get this place?” Mordivai’s parents had always had their primary home on Dromund Kaas, but Mordivai had not grown up in this building. He passed a guest room, with a neatly made bed and a piece of abstract sculpture visible through the door. He had had his training sabers decorating the walls of his own bedroom once, and a window that had looked out on the distant jungle.

“Six years ago.” They paused in a long, elegant dining room, with a blue chandelier decorating the ceiling and eight soft, cushioned chairs tucked in around the table.

“Lord Morda.” It was K’sua again, bowing politely from an opposite doorway. “The meal is ready. Just say the word.”

His mother nodded. “Go ahead and start serving.” She pulled out a chair and gestured for him to do the same. “So, I inherited seven house slaves and twelve grounds keepers when your grandmother passed. I gave them the option to disperse to our other houses. A few we kept on at her estate to do upkeep and maintenance for when we visit. K’sua elected to stay with me personally, along with two others, and I offered to free the remaining ten. Some accepted, but three asked to be reassigned to new masters, so I sold them to some officers your father knew and could vouch for.”

“Three didn’t want to be freed?”

“They’d been a part of our family all their lives. The thought of starting anew can be frightening.” She shrugged.

Mordivai found that thought surprising. He tried to image living as a slave for so long that he no longer knew how to direct the course of his own life. He remembered the despair and hopelessness he’d endured under Shastine. If he had been born into that life, perhaps he never would have had the confidence to know what he could accomplish on his own.

K’sua entered then, carrying a carafe of wine, and a serving droid rolled along behind her with two trays.

Mordivai sat patiently while a bowl of soup and a fish fillet covered in a pink sauce was set in front of him. He had gotten so used to the minimalism and austerity of the Jedi that to be surrounded now by such opulence, even understated opulence, made him uncomfortable. He recalled that once, a long time ago, he had had meals like this every day and had been driven to school by droids in a private transport. The self-denial the Jedi professed had been hard for him at first, but eventually he had come to accept their humble meals as just as fulfilling, and had found their simple lives to be compelled by a deeper purpose. What use was all this wealth? It was wasted here in finery and pretty things. How many houses did his family own now? He thought of the remaining homes, sitting empty like his grandmother’s estate, filled with expensive furniture that was dusted every day by lonely slaves.

He tasted the soup. It was exquisite and subtly flavored. He wondered what K’sua ate. It had never occurred to him before to think about the lives of his family’s slaves.

His mother was cutting up the fish and waving away K’sua’s attempts to refill her second glass with water. If anything, his mother would be considered progressive for a Sith. In spite of her traditional family background, she had nonetheless thought to free the slaves she had no use for, and had gotten assurances ahead of time that the sold ones were going to kind masters.

Morda looked up at him. “How are things with Lord Zash?”

Mordivai swirled his spoon in his soup. “Boring, honestly. I fetch artifacts for her, but all she does is send me on new errands for more.”

There was a loud clink as his Morda’s utensils were set against her plate. Mordivai looked up to see her leaning forward, her red eyes bright and daring.

“Lord Zash is dangerous. Don’t get complacent. She doesn’t include you in her plans? Then you need to find out for yourself what she’s up to.”

“Does it matter?”

“You tell me. Did you know that Zash has taken on a new apprentice?”

“What?”

Morda fetched a datapad and set it on the table between them. A small holoprojector flared to life, spitting out the slowly rotating image of a human female.

“Ciela. Twenty-four years old. She goes with Zash everywhere. Some say they are so close that they must be mother and daughter. Your father hasn’t turned up anything that proves that though.”

“When did this happen?”

“Two months ago. In my experience, when a master takes on a new apprentice there is only one interpretation. You are being replaced.”

“Is that really so bad? I have been learning combat training from another Sith, an Overseer Kryos. Can’t I just be apprenticed to him now instead?”

“Traditionally, you must wait until he makes the offer. Until then, you are not under his protection. You have a rival now. I trust you know how to handle this? You graduated Korriban after all.”

His mother was staring him down, her eyebrows pulled together in a look that could curdle milk. She blinked then, looking away suddenly. “There is so much I never got to teach you.”

Mordivai tried to imagine killing this young woman in cold blood, when they had not yet even met, and knew he couldn’t. But then Ffon’s face appeared in his memory, and Mordivai heard his voice again, echoing those last taunts as he had locked Mordivai in the tomb. When pressed, Mordivai knew what he was capable of.

He looked his mother in the eye. “I know what to do.”

“Good.” She went back to the food, the matter now settled.

The conversation turned then to what was occupying Mordivai’s time now. He did his best to explain his plan to get Lord Paladius’s attention, and gently hinted at the abuses he suspected the cult members were enduring under Paladius’s rule All the while, he watched his mother’s face carefully to gauge her reaction.

“This Paladius sounds like he could use a swift knock off his pedestal. Why don’t you just go in there and finish him. Why all the subterfuge?”

Mordivai explained that they still did not know where Paladius had his home base, or even if it was a fixed location at all. If he owned a pleasure barge, his location could always be moving.

His mother nodded and grew thoughtful. “So calculating of you. What happened to the bold, impatient boy I used to know?” She smiled and Mordivai saw genuine affection in her gaze. “You have become more like your father than I realized.”

Mordivai finished his meal and K’sua brought out dessert, a dainty concoction with berries ringing his plate. Mordivai told his mother about his training under Overseer Kryos, and how he was back to using a double-bladed saber again, like he had preferred as a child. A long time ago, Jaesa, his mother’s apprentice, had been teaching him.

“How is Jaesa anyway?”

Mordivai watched his mother’s face grow dark. “She is no longer my apprentice. She was zealous and so eager to learn, but her appetites became more and more...exotic as time passed. She reveled in violence without purpose or direction. We parted ways.”

“Amicably?” Mordivai had only heard of apprentices moving on after challenging their masters and he wondered if an altercation had occurred between the two. Jaesa was obviously still alive anyway, which must have meant something. “We still keep in touch on occasion,” was all his mother would say about that.

As K’sua cleared their plates, Morda steepled her fingers and gazed at him across the table. “We have so many years to catch up on, but it’s a start. Maybe next time, your father can make it too.”

Mordivai nodded. His mother had not pressed him for details of his past Jedi training, but perhaps his father would. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was a fraud. Not Sith enough for his parents, but not Jedi enough for his old masters either. Where did he belong?

“There is one last thing I wanted to share with you. Lord Morella left you a piece of her inheritance. No small amount of credits. I will send it over, but wanted to let you know before the money appeared in your account.” Morda smiled. “Use it wisely.”

Mordivai left the apartment after a brief and awkward hug from his mother. That she loved him he had no doubt. But would she be proud of him? A long legacy of Sith lords hung heavy in his past. He could not possibly live up to his family’s reputation.

His comm unit chimed, and Mordivai stepped under the awning of a nearby cantina to answer it.

“My lord,” It was Rylee. She gave him a brief bow. “I hope your trip is going well. I just wanted to report in.”

“Go ahead.”

“News of your doings has begun to travel. People are talking about the ghost who brings vaccines in the night. Best of all, we have gotten a few more defectors from Paladius’s compound.”

“Any sign of Paladius himself?”

“Not yet. But one of the defectors reports that Paladius is fuming at your interference. It won’t be long now. But there is something…”

“Yes?

“We could really use a headquarters of some kind. Doesn’t have to be big, but if we expect to siphon off followers we need a place for them to stay. And many of the sick and homeless have been asking how to find you.”

Mordivai thought of the money that would soon be fattening up his account. “I’ll leave that to you then. Find us a location. I’ll send the funds when you need them.”

“You...you want me to…? Of course my lord! I’d be happy to.” The tiny image of Rylee was beaming.

Mordivai closed the call and stared into the rain. This was becoming more than just a way to rankle Paladius. He was acquiring a cult of his own.


	19. Chapter 19

Mordivai double checked the coordinates, surprised that Rylee had secured a new base location for the cult right here on Nar Shaddaa’s ritzy promenade. As the building came into view, however, he understood. Perhaps it had once been a nightclub or gambling hall, but now it was almost a ruin. Still, Mordivai thought, with a little fixing up it would be serviceable. He liked the symbolism of such a place. Just like the people he hoped would find solace here, it was a place that was down on its luck, broken, and bruised, but it harbored promise, if only the right care was applied.

It was late, and he was surprised to see the lights still on. The halls were quiet. Mordivai passed by a discarded pile of broken holo signs, one of them depicting a cocktail glass and the other a dancing girl. His image reflected back at him in a fractured jumble from a cracked and dingy mirror on the wall. The red plush carpet was thick, but stained, and so faded in some areas that it had turned a sickly shade of orange.

As Mordivai rounded a corner and entered what would have been the casino’s main floor, he heard voices. Rylee and Destris arguing.

“I told you we don’t _need_ this stuff anymore, Rylee. Did you-”

Rylee’s voice cut in, sounding shrill and pained. “The others won’t leave Paladius without knowing we’ve got our own supply. We’re all afraid he’ll find-”

Mordivai crept around the corner in time to see Destris looming over Rylee, his hand swiping through the air as he bellowed, “Don’t tell me you’ve been still taking it too! Damn it, Rylee! How will you be strong enough for what-”

Rylee’s head shot up and her eyes met Mordivai’s from across the room. Destris saw the shift in her gaze and stopped short, spinning around to greet Mordivai with a scowl.

“What’s going on?” Mordivai glanced from Destris to Rylee.

Rylee rushed over to meet him. “It’s nothing, my lord. Just a disagreement about what to do with these vats of medicinal water. Remember I told you how Paladius protected us from the Rot by adding the vaccine to our water supply? We hope to get more members to leave but they want assurances that they’ll be safe with us, both from the Rot and from Paladius.”

Mordivai looked at Destris, waiting for his response.

“It’s dangerous to steal vats from Paladius’s supplies. I think we’d be better off making a clean break.” Destris crossed his arms shot a glare in Rylee’s direction.

“We have these vats now, so let’s use them,” Mordivai said, “but we can decide later if we really need more.” He made a mental note to look into this vaccine business a little closer. Was the Rot really that contagious? He had heard the Rot mentioned in the holo news broadcasts, but the authorities had made it sound more like a problem born of poor sanitation and terrible living conditions. Wasn’t it easily treatable for those who could afford it? Now that he had his grandmother’s inheritance, maybe he could look into buying a legitimate and legal supply for Paladius’s ex-cult members.

Rylee and Destris appeared satisfied with this answer. Destris wandered off to pack some junk into crates, finding himself a corner that was far away to work in. Rylee smiled at him, looking relieved.

“So what do you think about this place, my lord? I know it needs work, but I’m sure Destris and I can get some volunteers to help us with clean-up, as soon as we get more to join us.” She was spinning that bracelet around and around her wrist again, obviously nervous about his reaction.

“It’s great,” Mordivai said, stopping her with a light touch to her arm. “I like it. You did a good job finding it.”

Rylee blushed furiously. “Thank you, my lord. I’m glad you think so. I knew when I heard this place was for sale that I needed to act quickly and grab it, and then Destris said--My lord! You’re bleeding!” Her eyes flicked to his forehead.

“I’m fine,” Mordivai said. Earlier that evening, he had been trying to give the vaccine to a young boy when he had been smacked in the head by a flying rock. It had not taken Mordivai long to learn that many of the people on Nar Shaddaa’s streets had never known kindness and were suspicious of his motives in helping them. More than once he had been accused of being an organ thief.

“Not everyone trusts me when I come at them with a needle,” Mordivai said. “Vaccine or no.” He shrugged. 

“Someone attacked you?”

“Or tried to anyway. One of the homeless on the street.”

“Please, my lord, let me get you a med pack.”

Mordivai let her lead him to a back room lined with cluttered shelves. He cleared a spot for himself on a chair by shifting aside a pile of old holo recordings, noticing as he set them on the floor that one had been labeled “topless table dancer.” He settled in and looked up to see Rylee leaning in close with a cloth in one hand and an antiseptic spray in the other.

“May I?”

He nodded, and she began to lightly dab at the cut. Her face was so close that Mordivai found he was having trouble finding a suitable place to plant his gaze, and he stared awkwardly out of the corner of his eyes until he decided that his avoidance was perhaps too obvious, so he glanced back at Rylee again. She had a tiny freckle next to her nose and full lips that he found himself watching when she spoke.

“Let me just hold your hair out of the way now and I can…”

Her voice dropped away and Mordivai felt her fingers slide into his hair as she pushed it back from his forehead. The spritz of the antiseptic was icy cold against his skin and he blinked when a light mist fell across his nose.

“Oh! I’m sorry, did I get that in your eye?”

“No, no it’s fine.”

She stepped back to examine her handiwork and then her eyes shifted to his right cheek.

“My lord,” she said, almost whispering, “what happened to you?” Her hand pushed back the swath of hair that usually hung down to cover his burn scar. Mordivai felt suddenly uncomfortable and exposed.

“An old wound,” he said quickly, and guided her hand away, grateful when he felt his hair curtaining his face once more.

“I’m sorry, my lord. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” She stepped away to stow the medkit.

Mordivai looked around, eager to find something to talk about that would change the subject. “This place is bigger on the inside than it looks from the outside.”

“I know!” Rylee called from over her shoulder. “It’s great. There’s a whole second floor too.”

“Would you show me around?”

She spun around and gave him an excited grin. “Of course!”

The upper story was not as large as the lower, containing a few rooms that Mordivai guessed might have been offices, as well as a refresher and even a tiny kitchen. Mordivai peeked into the rooms as they passed, and spotted the shadowy shapes of out-of-date furniture as well as the occasional disassembled droid. A few of the rooms actually had tiny windows that looked out on the promenade, although the blinds that covered them were garishly out of date in color and design.

“I’m still working to get the electricity up in these rooms, my lord. Only a few things work, but no lights. I expect to have it fixed soon.”

Rylee stopped at the final room at the end of a hallway.

“Look at the view from this window, my lord.”

She picked her way through the dark room and turned a crank on the wall. The blinds shuddered and then rose with a groan to reveal a long horizontal window, barely wider than his hand, revealing the ever bright lights of the promenade. Mordivai followed her and peered out.

“Look,” she said, suddenly very close to his ear, “in between that vendor’s stall and the credit booth, you can just see the top of Karagga the Hutt’s hat.”

She pointed and Mordivai leaned in close. He followed the direction of her finger and spotted the top of the giant, gaudy statue.

“I see it.” He stepped back and gave her a grin. “Glorious Karagga the Hutt. What a view. They should have charged us extra for that.”

“I know, right?” She laughed, then grew serious. “This is so much better than the place Paladius had us in. And now it’s yours.”

“You did well, Rylee.”

In the dark, Mordivai could not see Rylee’s expression, but the glittering lights from the promenade caught in her eyes like sparks. Her voice dropped in pitch.

“I’m here for you, my lord. Whatever you need.”

Mordivai struggled for a response. “Thank you,” he said at last.

“No thanks are needed,” she said quietly. She took an audible breath then and turned to face him.

“My lord, there is something I’d like to ask you. A favor.”

“What is it?”

“My apartment is a ways from here...it’s not in a good district, lots of crime, you know, and...well, I was wondering if I could stay here for a while, just until we get this place cleaned up of course, so then I don’t have to walk so far, especially on nights when I work late, like tonight.” She paused to take another breath and waited expectantly for his response.

“I don’t see why not. It might be good to have someone watching over the place, especially until we get the security systems running. But Rylee..” the thought was quickly forming, and Mordivai decided he liked it, “why don’t you just stay here as long as you like? We’ve got empty rooms up here.”

“Really? You mean that?” She bolted forward and threw her arms around him, then immediately jumped back stuttering apologies. “I didn’t mean to be so familiar...I just...oh, thank you so much!”

“Sure.” Mordivai smiled and she sighed, granting him a blissful smile in return.

She glanced back out the window again. “Soon, everything that was once Paladius’s will be yours, my lord.”

Mordivai had a sudden disturbing thought.

“I hope that didn’t used to include you as well.”

She looked away as if embarrassed. “No, Paladius was only interested in himself.” Her head snapped up as she added, “and I’m glad for that. I would not have wanted to have earned that...that kind of attention from him. But Paladius is not like you, my lord.”

There was a pause before Rylee continued. “My lord, do you have far to go to where you are staying?”

“I have my ship at the spaceport.”

“The spaceport? That’s a good trek away. This place is yours now. You should stay here.”

“Where?” Mordivai chuckled, thinking of the mountains of furniture in this place. “This place doesn’t have any beds, does it?”

“There is a bed right here. It’s not luxurious, but it’s clean.” She gestured behind her and Mordivai saw a mattress that he had failed to notice in the dark, with blankets and a pillow already laid out. He wondered if Rylee had in fact slept here once already or if she had been that hopeful that he would let her stay.

“I...hope you don’t think it presumptuous, but I made this bed up for you, my lord.”

The faint light passing through the windows painted Rylee’s face in a pale, silvery glow. Mordivai realized she was nervous, trepidation wafting off of her like a scent, reaching him through the Force.

“Thank you,” he said. “That was kind of you.”

She continued to stare at him a moment, then licked her lips and looked away. Mordivai searched his brain, trying to determine what he might have said or done that could have made her feel so uncomfortable around him.

“My lord,” her voice was practically a whisper. “Paladius never asked for anything...untoward of me. But for you, I would be willing to show my gratitude...if you should wish it.”

For a moment, Mordivai thought he had misunderstood her meaning, but then it all came together and made sense.

“Rylee, no. I would never ask such a thing.”

Instead of relief, however, she lowered her eyes and blinked rapidly a few times. “Of course, my lord. I only wish to make you feel welcome here. I’m sure are you are used to better…”

Horrified, Mordivai realized that she had taken his refusal as a personal rejection. Could he be bungling this any more?

“That’s not what I meant, Rylee. I merely...I am not the type to expect such favors from those who work for me.”

“I know,” she said, and a faint smile crossed her lips. “That’s why it is such an honor to serve you. That’s why I would go to your bed so willingly.”

Rylee was attractive, there was no doubt. And her trembling subservience was oddly enticing, as much as Mordivai hated to admit it. There was no way he could refuse her, he realized, without hurting her feelings. And really, would joining her in that bed be such an odious task after all? Far from it.

“Thank you, Rylee.” He reached out to cup her cheek, and she nuzzled his hand like a pet starved for affection. He could already feel anticipation feeding her thoughts, tinged with hints of desire. When he stepped closer, she looked up at him expectantly, and when he leaned in to kiss her, she met him halfway, gently entwining her arms around his neck to draw him closer.

It was easy after that, so easy, to allow her warm, fluttering hands to undress him, to watch as she did the same with her own clothes, dropping them one by one on the floor before him. And she was right about the bed too. It was clean and soft and inviting, although he enjoyed that not nearly as much as the sensation of sinking into her softness instead. He fell asleep at last, warm and sated, with her arm draped over his shoulder and the faint puff of her breath against his back.


	20. Secret Ambitions

Mordivai awoke to a sense of _wrongness._ There had been a sound, something too furtive to be accidental, a shuffling that was painfully slow and which came in fits and starts.

His eyes snapped open. A figure was standing at the foot of the bed, frozen as if paused in midstep. Mordivai realized that he had left his lightsaber on a table near the bed’s end and that the figure was between him and it. He leapt to his feet, barely conscious that he was still stark naked, and threw out his hand, calling his lightsaber to him. With a start, he saw the figure’s arm jerk and the lightsaber sailed across the room and into his palm. It had not been on the table where he had left it after all. He ignited the dual blades, and a golden glow flooded the room, illuminating Rylee standing wide-eyed near his side of the bed.

“Rylee, what were you doing with my lightsaber?”

A jumble of words fell from Rylee’s mouth, her voice hasty and quivering. “I...was just getting some water from the dresser, and I knocked off your lightsaber and it dropped on the floor and I was just picking it up. I didn’t want to wake you so I was trying to be quiet and-”

Mordivai’s eyes flicked to glance behind her. There was no water on the dresser. She swallowed audibly loud, and began rubbing her wrist as if searching the bracelet she usually wore. She was nude as well, he realized, and the absurdity of the situation made him almost want to laugh, that wild, tattered kind of laugh that terrified people do. Instead, he cleared his throat.

“I don’t believe you.”

Rylee’s breath hitched into a sob and she dropped abruptly to her knees.

“I’m sorry my lord, I’m so sorry! I-I didn’t want to...I couldn’t go through with it. It’s wrong, I know it’s wrong, and stupid, and I’m a fool, a fool for ever thinking I could try, for ever believing-”

Rylee covered her face with her hands and refused to look at him. Mordivai pitched his voice hard to break through her babble. “What are you talking about? Were you trying to kill me?”

“In your sleep. It was supposed to be easy. But I didn’t think so, I didn’t want to do it, I knew you would catch me, I just knew, oh stars, forgive me-”

“But... _why?_ Rylee, why would you want to do this?”

Rylee tore her hands away and stared at him with a tear-streaked face. “I didn’t want to hurt you! You were kind to me, but Destris...Destris thought you were young and easy pickings -- that’s what he called you -- and he said that we could do much better on our own, without you. ‘No more slaves to to the Sith!’ he said. I told him you were not like Paladius, that you deserved better, but he...he told me he would throw me out, that he didn’t need me, that I was perfect for this ruse-”

“Destris asked you to kill me?”

“I was weak to not resist him, I know. But I was afraid, my lord. There is nothing for me out there, and I know what happens to women who are alone and down on their luck...”

“Destris is either an idiot or he was trying to get rid of you. Did you really think that you could kill a Sith with his own lightsaber?”

Rylee fell silent. Then she slumped over so that she was practically lying prostrate at his feet.

“Kill me lord, then, if you must! But please make it fast.”

The story Mordivai had finally pulled from her was likely the truth. Rylee was far more competent that Destris was giving her credit for, and should have trusted her instincts. She lay now, gasping and shaking, with her face pressed against the floor.

“Your loyalty is to _me,_ ” Mordivai said. “Not Destris, not to anyone else. Why didn’t you come to me? I could have protected you. Destris is nothing! I will find out the truth about all this, and then I will pass judgment. Get dressed.”

Rylee scurried to her feet and began hurriedly putting on her clothes. Mordivai slid on his pants and outer robe only, and still gripping his lightsaber, he marched from the room. His blood was high, and he knew he needed to act now, while his anger was still hot. _So that is why Rylee was so eager to get me alone in bed,_ he thought. All of it was fake. He felt his face flushing with humiliation.

“Destris!” he yelled. “Come out and face me!” He stormed through the hallways, reaching out through the Force for any sign of Destris. A sudden burst of panic touched his mind, coming from downstairs. Destris was planning to flee. Mordivai vaulted down the stairs in a single leap, regaining his balance with his free hand against the floor. He had doled out vengeance before. This would be no different.

He found Destris racing across the main floor lobby, glancing behind him with furtive looks as he stumbled towards the door. Mordivai reached out through the Force and grabbed him by the throat, lifting him clear off his feet.

“Only the guilty would run.”

Destris clutched at his throat, making choking noises and thrashing in Mordivai’s grip, his torso rocking side to side. He would get no answers, Mordivai realized, if Destris couldn’t speak. Mordivai opened his hand and dropped Destris to the floor.

As he advanced on him, Destris spun onto his back and began to scuttle away on all fours like a crab, his eyes wild and white with fear. Mordivai felt a rush of satisfaction upon seeing Destris so helpless and terrified before him.

“You dare defy a Sith? And then send another to do your job? How little you value your life. Or Rylee’s.”

Destris began to fumble with shaking hands at his belt, and Mordivai realized with amusement that he was attempting to grab hold of his blaster. Mordivai reached for it through the Force and tore it from its holster, calling it to him. He stuffed it into the waistband of his pants.

“What makes you think that you could outsmart me?”

“I’m not the weakling you think I am!” Destris blurted out, his voice hoarse. “You are no better than Paladius. Why should we trade one Sith for another?”

Destris had stretched out his right hand. Inexplicably, Mordivai thought he was making a gesture to ask for the return of his blaster. But he held his hand suspended in the air, his brow furrowing in concentration, and Mordivai became aware of a faint pressure closing in around his throat.

Mordivai stared at him, watching as Destris’s hand trembled and his fingers curled as if he were grasping something invisible. The pressure around Mordivai’s throat, halting at best, began to increase.

“You’re Force sensitive,” Mordivai said. Sweat was breaking out across Destris forehead, yet Mordivai’s breathing was only barely obstructed. “You thought you could be a match for me?”

Destris’s face flushed red. “You don’t know what I’m capable of! It’s not...I’m not...my powers are still growing!”

“ _You_ are Force sensitive, yet you sent _Rylee_ to face me? What were you thinking?”

“You think Rylee is so innocent? She has her own secrets! Ask her, why don’t you!” Destris was scrambling backwards again on all fours, turning now and trying to get to his feet.

“Oh, I will,” Mordivai replied. He’d had enough of this farce. He grabbed Destris by the throat again through the Force and slammed his head against the floor. Then he began to choke the life out of him in earnest.

“My lord! Don’t kill him, please!”

Mordivai’s head snapped around to find Rylee, dressed now thankfully, rushing down the stairs. She stared at him with plaintive, frightened eyes.

What he must look like to her. Just another crazed Sith, his hair disheveled, his clothes askew, this helpless man before him taking his last breaths. Destris hadn’t put up much of a fight. It had been stupidly easy to subdue him. Mordivai felt a heat of shame stealing over him.

Mordivai released his hold.

“Please,” Rylee repeated, “don’t kill him, not like this…”

“I can’t trust you anymore, Destris,” Mordivai said quietly. “You are banished from here, and if I ever catch that you are plotting against me, I will hunt you down and destroy you. Do you understand?”

Destris nodded vigorously.

“Then get out.”

Destris stumbled off and Mordivai was left alone with Rylee. Slowly, he turned to face her. She was visibly shaking, but Mordivai watched as she straightened before him and attempted to compose herself, and he admired her for that.

“So,” Mordivai said, his anger dissipating, the buildup of excitement and urgency deflating at last, “was all that a lie then? Was everything you did just an excuse to get me alone and weaponless?”

Rylee had the grace to look ashamed.

“My lord,” she said. “It was a trick, I admit, and planned ahead of time. But, the moments we spent together, my...my willingness to be with you. That was real. You were kind to me, and...and gentle. I wasn’t expecting that. You have my loyalty. All of it. I swear.”

“Are you Force sensitive too?”

Rylee visible started, her face growing ashen.

“Why did you hide this from me?”

“Paladius,” she stammered, “He...he threatened to send us to Korriban. But none of us are strong enough, my lord. It was a death sentence, and we all knew it. We had to hide what we were. If anyone found out, Paladius said they would take us away to the Academy. He promised to protect us, to keep us safe from other Sith.”

“Yet he didn’t keep you safe, did he? Your friend, the one who disappeared? That was Paladius’s doing, wasn’t it?”

“Sent to Korriban,” Rylee breathed, “for disobeying.”

Mordivai nodded, disgusted. Paladius just wanted his own set of personal slaves, who would work for a pittance and be too grateful for any scraps of safety he claimed he was giving them.

“I could have protected you from Paladius. And from Destris. You didn’t have to betray me.”

Rylee lowered her eyes to the floor. “Destris wanted us to live free. Not under the yoke of any Sith. You were supposed to get rid of Paladius for us, and then leave so Destris could take over. But now the others are saying they want to follow you instead. Destris was furious. His...his powers are stronger than mine, and he threatened to expose me, just like Paladius had.” Rylee turned away abruptly and cleared her throat.

“Do you always do as Destris bids you?”

Rylee colored and wrung one hand around her wrist, twisting the skin so hard that it left a mark. Mordivai felt a wave of guilt. He had seen the way Destris tried to control things, had glimpsed them arguing, and he suspected that Destris had only taken advantage of the helplessness and fear that Paladius had long cultivated in his charges.

“I’m sorry, my lord. I should have-”

Mordivai cut his hand through the air. “I’ve heard enough.”

Rylee took a deep breath and appeared to recompose herself. She had not run, like Destris, Mordivai reminded himself. She stood before him, ready to face his judgment. He lightly touched her mind, searching for the truth behind her words. She was afraid, desperate, and above all, she lacked the confidence to trust in her own instincts. Rylee had been swapped from one master to another, never being allowed to know her own strength.

“You will need to prove my trust in you now,” Mordivai said. “I will give you a second chance.”

“Thank you,” Rylee said, her voice taking on a edge of hope. “I won’t disappoint you.”

“See that you don’t.”

00o00

Mordivai spent the following few evenings sleeping on his ship. If he had ever considered staying at the refuge that plan was void now. On his ship things were quiet, Khem was always on guard, and he was safe. On the third morning, the holocomm chimed, waking Mordivai from sleep. He reached for his bedside table to grab his personal comm but then noticed that the call was coming from the ship’s main holo in the common room outside. He pulled himself from bed, noting that it was unusually early for a call. His thoughts turned immediately to Zash. Calling at this hour could be a way to unbalance him by catching him before his brain had a chance to work at proper waking speed.

It was not Zash on the holo. An unfamiliar human male appeared, a Jedi by the looks of him, and he immediately scowled when he saw Mordivai.

“Who are you?”

Mordivai bristled. “You are the one who called me. Who are you?”

“You have an Imperial frequency. Are you Sith? I’d like to know how your number got on Zayla’s comm.”

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

“Zayla’s dead.”

Mordivai’s heart lurched in his chest, and for a moment for floor swayed under his feet. He had last seen Zayla on Balmorra, and the memory of that encounter still lingered.

“She’s...She’s dead? How? What happened?”

The Jedi stabbed a finger at Mordivai’s direction. “Dead from one of _your_ Imperial cruisers. An unprovoked attack on the ExplorCorp ship. But that wasn’t enough was it? They had to shoot at the escape pods as well. Just had to finish the job.” 

Mordivai’s mind reeled. “When did this happen?”

“Last week,” the Jedi answered.

“I didn’t...I didn’t know.” Where had he been at the moment of her death? He could have been doing any number of mundane, everyday things while Zayla was dying, and all the while he had been blindly unaware, feeling nothing of her passing.

The Jedi stared him down, his expression unforgiving. “You still haven’t told me what your frequency was doing on her comm.”

Whatever anger Mordivai had felt initially had already numbed, and he gave his answer flatly. “We attended the academy together...on Tython.”

The Jedi made a snort of disgust. “A failed Jedi then and a traitor. She was better off without you.”

Mordivai looked up. “I loved her.”

There it was, the naked truth, torn from his heart and given to a stranger. The Jedi’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment he said nothing. “It fell to me to go through her effects. I just thought you should know.”

“Thank you.” The Jedi cut the call and Mordivai stared for a moment at the empty air above the holoprojector.

Zayla was dead. Whatever hopes he had harbored of reconciling with her were gone.

00o00

More ex-cult members were trickling in by the day. Mordivai wasn’t sure what to do with them. It was one thing when all they wanted was some food, shelter, and maybe a better chance at a decent job, but now that he knew they were all Force sensitives…

_I can’t run my own academy,_ he thought. He had to teach them something though. How to hide their Force powers, perhaps. Maybe he could bring in some people to teach them job skills, actually have real employees on a pay roll. He could do some good getting people off the streets of Nar Shaddaa even. It felt like a big task and one that he was ill-prepared for.

He sat on his ship now, which was parked in one of Nar Shaddaa’s spaceports, enjoying the peace and quiet, away from the planet’s bustle and away from the machinations that had been Destris and Rylee. Before him sat Kel’eth Ur’s holocron that he had retrieved from the Dark Temple on Dromund Kaas. He had fiddled with it for over an hour but could get little more out of it than a recording of the message that had played for him on its discovery. Kel’eth Ur had said his teachings were enclosed within, but all Mordivai could find was lines of indecipherable code that all his on-board computers insisted were unreadable. He had tried meditating on the holocron next, but it gave him nothing more than a headache. There had been a whole library of holocrons at the Jedi Academy, but Mordivai had never reached the level of training where he had been taught how to consult them. And maybe Sith holocrons were different?

“I could use your help right now, Kel’leth Ur,” Mordivai muttered. _Real strength comes when one is no longer afraid,_ he had said. But how could any Sith live his life free of fear? Fear is what kept him alive in the face of betrayal and backstabbing, what kept his mind sharp instead of growing complacent. Yet he thought of Rylee, living in constant fear, fear of Paladius, fear of Destris, fear of _him_...fear of where her next meal would come from, or fear of being discovered and sent to Korriban. Didn’t Rylee and the ex-cult members deserve something better than a life ruled by fear?

Mordivai sat back in his chair and pushed the holocron away. He reached for his comm instead.

Moments later, a familiar figure hovered in blue outline above the comm unit.

“Hi Ai’lanynn. How’s it going?”

“Mordivai! Good to hear from you. I’ve been catching up with family,” Ai’lanynn said. “So much has happened since I’ve been gone. Did you know that I have a baby niece now? Well, she’s not really a baby anymore. Four years old already!”

“That’s great news.”

Ai’lanynn practically glowed with happiness, as she breathlessly told him about family reunions, new marriages and new babies, and everything else she had missed in her years away. When Mordivai asked her about her job situation, however, her demeanor changed. Her radiant smile faltered, then quickly resumed again, but Mordivai could see that this second smile wasn’t reaching her eyes.

“No work yet. These things take time you know…”

“Yeah,” Mordivai said, “They do.” He thought of the new ex-cult members showing up by the day, and of the piles of work to be done to get them all settled. They always arrived hungry, in ill-fitting clothes, and sometimes they were sick. Mordivai was already overwhelmed with ordering supplies and getting them distributed.

“You know,” he began, the idea still taking shape in his head, “I’ve got a new project going on Nar Shaddaa, something I could really use some help with. I’m running a shelter of sorts, and I need someone who knows how to organize and manage a household. Would you..would you want to come to Nar Shaddaa? I could offer you wages.”

“Oh Mordivai, that’s kind of you, really, but…” Ai’lanynn looked uncertain. Mordivai knew what she would say. No doubt she longed to stay with the family she’d missed so much, rather than return to Nar Shaddaa, where her life in slavery had begun.

“I understand-” Mordivai started to say.

“It’s ID papers,” Ai’lanynn cut in. “I’m still in a kind of legal limbo since Shastine died. Employers on Ryloth don’t care as much, but on Nar Shaddaa, the hutts would take one look at my records and dismiss me because I am a run-away.”

“What?” Mordivai sat up straighter. “You aren’t a run-away! You’re free now!”

Ai’lanynn smiled sadly at him. “No,” she said, “Or, yes I mean, I am free, but not legally. And that would be a real problem on Nar Shaddaa.”

“How do we make it legal then?”

“Well, since you killed Shastine, you have the rights to my next ownership.”

Mordivai covered his face with his hand, feeling stupid and embarrassed all at once. Of course it wasn’t as simple as buying her a ticket and letting her go. “What do I need to do? I’ll file the documents, make it official.”

Ai’lanynn beamed at him. “Would you? Thank you!”

Excited now, Mordivai lost no time in working out the details of how to set up Ai’lanynn’s paperwork and arrival. Rylee was competent, but he needed someone that he could trust. Maybe he really could get a good thing going here on Nar Shaddaa. Mordivai closed out the call and smiled.


	21. The Kelethurians

Ai’lanynn proved to be even more valuable than Mordivai could have predicted. Within a week of her arrival, all their supplies were neatly stacked and inventoried and a schedule had been set up for the ordering of new supplies. As new recruits continued to trickle in, Mordivai discovered that many of them were not without skills. Rather, they had given up their old lives once their Force sensitivity had manifested in favor of going into hiding under Paladius’s yoke. Mordivai put Rylee in charge of a screening process where new arrivals could be assigned tasks based on their history and talents. Soon Mordivai had a field medic, a slicer, a droid assembler, two cooks, and a gladiatorial brawler who Mordivai put to work teaching basic self-defense skills. 

Most importantly, Mordivai began showing his new members some basics on how to hide and control their Force powers. He felt terribly inadequate at this job, especially once he realized that a few of them were strong enough to become Jedi or Sith in their own right. They should not be languishing here on Nar Shaddaa, but what else could he do with them?

He continued to try and retrieve Kel’elth Ur’s teachings from the holocron, but to no avail. It did not go unnoticed among the new members however, that their Sith leader had been spotted meditating over a holocron, or that he practiced compassion and preferred peaceful resolutions over brutality. Word started to spread beyond the walls of their little haven. Stranger still, however, was the news that Mordivai’s new followers had given themselves a name. New arrivals came seeking “the Kelethurians, and the great healer who leads them.”

When Mordivai had questioned this, he was told that everyone knew that he consulted with the ghost of the ancient Sith, Kel’eth Ur, seeking greater knowledge and wisdom which he would bestow upon them when the time was right. Mordivai had no idea how to handle this revelation and was concerned with how quickly his new recruits had fallen back into cult-like ways and idolatry. He only hoped that such tales were not yet reaching Lord Zash.

A month into his new endeavor, Lord Zash called.

“My dear apprentice,” she said. “I hear you have been busy taking over Lord Paladius’s cult. That must be great fun, I’m sure, but don’t forget that I sent you to Nar Shaddaa on a mission, and am still awaiting word that you have retrieved my artifact.”

“Yes, Master,” Mordivai replied, trying to mask the disquiet that hearing from Zash always embroiled within him. “I am drawing Lord Paladius out of hiding and expect he will emerge soon.” Thankfully, this was not a lie, since Mordivai was indeed confident that Lord Paladius was on the brink of breaking. Recently arrived cult refugees had described his frequent temper tantrums and threats, all associated with Mordivai’s doings.

Zash was watching him thoughtfully through the holocron now and Mordivai wondered if she had the ability to read his thoughts from so far away. “I am growing impatient, apprentice,” she said at last. “The time for my ritual draws near and I need that artifact. Your patient, stalking ways do you credit, but we are on a time schedule and I will not let it be delayed.”

“I understand.”

“Good then. I look forward to hearing of your success.”

Luck was with Mordivai, because within the week, Lord Paladius broached him through the holo, wanting to strike a deal.

“Cease this nonsense!” he boomed from the comm. His lungs were an equal match for his girth, and he was dressed in rich robes. Mordivai was reminded of the initial tales he had heard of Paladius taking his members’ hard earned money and squandering it on himself.

“This is about Tulak Hord’s necklace, isn’t it?” Paladius asked. “Have it if you like! Let us meet like civilized beings and discuss how we can work out a beneficial arrangement.” He leaned forward then, as if about to impart a secret, and said quietly, “Surely you don’t really want the responsibility of these mewling children on your hands? If they want more freedom, I will give it to them. I only wished to protect them, you know, like a father would his brood.”

Mordivai gave away no concessions, but agreed to meet Paladius at one of his safe houses in two days’ time.

When he informed Rylee of this development, she became adamant. “My lord, you must let me go with you. I know Paladius, and I know his followers. I can help negotiate on the former members’ behalf, help us come to terms that would be acceptable to everyone.”

“You are not thinking of going back to him, are you?” Mordivai couldn’t hide his astonishment.

“No! But my lord, you are not...were you planning to kill him rather than negotiate?”

Mordivai hesitated, unsure and unwilling to give voice to how things may or may not play out. “I will accept his resignation in leading this cult of his. Nothing less.”

Rylee appeared to think on this a moment. “He will try to trick you, my lord.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Mordiavi said. “However, something is bothering me. You clearly don’t want me to kill Paladius, but yet you had no qualms about taking _my_ life?”

Rylee winced. “It’s not like that, my lord. I didn’t want to kill you either. I didn’t think I would succeed.”

“You expected to die then?”

“I…” Rylee looked away. “I believed you would kill me quickly, because you do not seem the type to gloat. But mostly, more than that even, I...I was hoping for your mercy.”

Mordivai was silent a moment, not sure whether the Sith in him should be insulted, or whether he should feel relieved that she knew him for better.

“My lord,” Rylee continued. “I want to help you. To show you that I am useful...and trustworthy.”

“Very well. You may come,” Mordivai said, “but you must wait for me outside. Seeing you is only likely to enrage Paladius, or make him think that I am mocking his failure to keep members on board. If...if for some reason I don’t come back, I want you to go to my ship and-” Mordivai paused, not sure how to explain Khem Val, whom he had taken pains to keep hidden. It would not do if the only Dashade to be seen in centuries should show up on Nar Shaddaa and become associated with his refuge. More than anything, he feared discovery by other Sith. Sith more dangerous than Paladius.

“You will triumph, my lord, I am sure of it.”

“You must promise me this, Rylee. I have a...a servant. He is frightening to look at but he is loyal. Tell him what happened and he will come.”

Two days later, Mordivai arrived at the location specified for his meeting with Paladius. It was a pleasure barge, and Mordivai had to make his way past a jubilant party in order to find the quiet room that Paladius had designated.

“Welcome!” Paladius cried upon seeing him. “My, but you are so young! I’m impressed already.”

Paladius was a large, Pureblood Sith, who wore rings on his fingers and a outer robe of flowing silk. He looked more like some rich merchant than any kind of warrior, but there was a lightsaber attached to his belt just the same. Mordivai vowed to stay wary.

Mordivai was led to a pleasant sitting room, with a table and chairs set out for dining. Paladius meandered over to a cabinet and began to remove wine glasses. “Bring me our special bottled brew for guests,” he called, and a slave that Mordivai had not noticed at first emerged from a dark space along the wall to comply.

“I hope you will share a drink with me,” Paladius crooned. “Such good company deserves a good wine. I don’t get to entertain fellow Sith often.”

Mordivai nodded, keeping his face neutral while seating himself at the table opposite Paladius’s chair. Paladius placed the glasses on the table and settled himself as well.

“You are Zash’s apprentice,” he said. “As soon as I realized that, I knew immediately what you wanted. Such a trivial thing! We should not be fighting. Here,” he gestured towards the glass in front of Mordivai and the silent slave filled first his cup and then Paladius’s. “Let us drink to a new start. One where we are colleagues and not enemies, hmm?”

Paladius was looking expectantly at Mordivai, waiting for him to take up his glass. This claim to friendship was surely a lie, but Mordivai was still reluctant to shatter the illusion so soon. Yet, he did not trust the contents of his drink either.

“Thank you,” Mordivai said. “But I’m not thirsty.”

“Tsk tsk,” Paladius said. “I should be insulted, but I understand that your time at Korriban is not far gone and no doubt you still remember the other acolytes’ deceitful ways. Erlban! Test our guest’s drink, will you? Show him that it is quite harmless.”

The slave went back to the cabinet and removed a shot glass. Then he carefully poured some of the contents of Mordivai’s glass into it. Just as he raised his glass, Mordivai caught a glimpse of the slave’s smile, which was far too mocking for his liking, but nevertheless, the man upended his glass and loudly swallowed it.

“Good then, good,” Paladius said, waving the slave away once again. “So you see my intentions are pure. Drink up and we can talk business!”

Mordivai watched the slave out of the corner of his eye as the man walked calmly back to his post and turned once again to stand with his back against the wall. Feeling he was out of excuses, Mordivai lifted his glass and took a careful sip. It was a fruity red wine, although the flavor was blander than he was expecting after Paladius had made such a fuss about its quality. Mordivai wondered if Paladius had watered it down. _How he clings to his wealth,_ Mordivai thought, _and how unwilling he is to share._

Paladius had taken up a pleasant-sounding babble, which Mordivai was already finding tiresome, but he decided to let Paladius talk himself out for a bit. Mordivai waited patiently while Paladius described his kindly intentions towards his cult members, how he gave them protection while any other Sith would have sent them to Korriban to die. He finished with a boisterous laugh.

“You are young and have the whole galaxy before you! Take the pendant and present it to Zash with my compliments. Rylee and Destris are forgiven! I do not hold grudges. I have even kept their old jobs in reserve for them, how’s that?”

“No,” Mordivai said. He stared into Paladius’s face.

Paladius sighed. “My boy, you are a terrible negotiator. Why have you taken on this cause that is not yours?”

“You are taking advantage of them. Making promises and delivering nothing. Keeping them ignorant of their powers. There are better ways to protect them than by stealing their hard earned wages and forbidding them to leave.”

“So, this is how you want it. No doubt Zash sent you here with the intent of peeling the artifact off my dead body.” Paladius sat back in his chair and Mordivai noticed that he had not yet touched his own drink. “Take it then, boy. Go ahead and attack me. Look at me. Aged and corpulent. I’m an easy kill.”

Mordivai stood. A glance around the room told him that there was no one else here but the slave, and he sensed no other presences nearby either. Perhaps Paladius was not deft with a lightsaber, but no doubt he had other skills. There was no way this could not be a trick.

“I don’t want to kill you.”

“The time for chatting is past,” Paladius said, and this time his voice was a growl. “Talking won’t kill me. Action will. Take action!”

Paladius leapt to his feet then, flipping the table forward as he did so. The plates, the wine glasses, and the utensils all upended themselves into Mordivai’s face and he jumped back to avoid his feet being smashed by the side of the table as it collapsed to the floor. Instinct took over then, and Mordivai threw out his hands to seize Paladius in a grip with the Force.

He barely began the motion, when a stab of pain ripped through his temples. Mordivai staggered backwards and tried again, throwing all his effort into creating a wall of Force power between himself and Paladius, who he now expected was coming in for the attack. But again his own body failed him, and the pain returned with double the ferocity, this time knocking Mordivai to his knees.

“What-What have you done to me?”

“How do you think I protect my charges from discovery by Sith and other Force users, young man?” Paladius was towering over him now, the weight of his voice cutting channels of fire into Mordivai’s brain.

“I removed their ability to touch the Force, making then boringly average, and therefore of no consequence to anyone. Did Rylee and Destris never tell you? It’s in the water.”

Mordivai was growing weak, his arms and legs turning to jelly. He slumped onto his side and looked up at Paladius’s triumphant face.

“I thought...the vaccine...it was for the Rot.” Mordivai’s vision was beginning to waver in and out.

Paladius boomed with laughter. “The Rot! What a clever ruse. I wonder why they lied to you? Could it have something to do with those water tanks that went missing last month from my storage?” Paladius threw back his head and laughed again. “They say they want freedom, but how they will crawl back when their precious water runs out! Even now they are afraid to be without it.”

“No,” Mordiavi managed, thinking of the ones who had begun training to hide their powers, the ones who came to him with Force abilities that were growing stronger by the day. “They have stopped...stopped taking it.” Some of them anyway. Mordivai thought of how Rylee had defended the use of the water vats against Destris’s urgings, and realized why she had never come to him for the training he was offering the others.

Someone was coming, many someones. Mordivai felt the passage of their feet as they approached. Soon he was being lifted and carried away to a dark room, where an even darker, empty crate awaited him. Mordivai renewed his struggling, realizing now, too late, that it was only when he attempted to touch the Force that he was weakened. He tried to hold back from using the Force, but the Force was a part of him like breathing. He found it infinitely hard not to even reach out to assess the number of people who were holding him down. He kicked and thrashed, but the brutes buckled down in their efforts. They held him against the floor while others locked cuffs around his wrists and ankles. Then he was lifted again, still thrashing, and the sides of the crate were rising around him. A lid lowered towards his face.

“Have fun in Shadow Town,” Paladius called.

Mordivai let out a ferocious scream, Force-imbued, and the back of his eyes lit up in sparks. He choked down the pain and willed his eyes open long enough to see the satisfaction of one of his attackers holding his head with blood trickling out of his ears. His small victory was short-lived. A fist hurled out of the dark and almost knocked him senseless. Then the lid lowered again, the tiny cracks of light around the edges growing ever smaller.

Mordivai felt like his heart had stopped beating. It was the tomb all over again.


	22. What Was Lost is Found

Mordivai arrived in Shadow Town sick with terror. He had gone hoarse long ago, and now he simply pushed against the sides of the crate to keep himself from knocking about while trying to focus on not hyperventilating.

_I am not dying, I am not dying._ This horror _would_ end. Eventually.

By the time someone finally let him out, he was too exhausted to resist, and he let a prison guard in a crisp military uniform lead him like a docile nerf down corridors and into a room called “Inmate Processing.”

He didn’t even flinch when an identification chip was inserted underneath the skin of his arm, and he overheard the guards conversing about him shortly thereafter, questioning whether he was actually a real Sith. Strangely, they sounded serious and not sarcastic, which made Mordivai wonder if people really were locked up in this place on false pretenses. Then again, what had he done wrong to be brought here?

His time in the crate had left him shaking so badly that he stumbled as he was led to his cell, his legs feeling far too weak to even hold him up. The nearest guard stopped in front of an empty room and gave Mordivai a shove. Mordivai tripped into the room, catching himself before falling. When he turned around, a buzzing red force-field was already in place. Mordivai slumped onto the room’s single cot and curled into a ball. His arms trembled but all he felt was relief that he was out of the crate. He supposed the rest of his predicament would sink in later. He soon fell into a weary sleep, free even of dreams.

00o00

Mordivai awoke to the silence left behind when the buzzing of his cell force-field failed. The hallway beyond was dark, which was unusual. A uniformed guard stood outside the room, strangely still, watching Mordiavi with blank, expressionless eyes. The man rose into the air without warning and Mordivai skittered backwards in surprise, watching as the guard was lifted off his feet and propelled into the cell. He crumpled to the floor and emitted a whimper. When he glanced up, Mordivai realized that what he had initially taken for a dumb stare was actually stark terror. The guard held his hands out in a gesture of surrender. A moment later, a hulking shape stepped into the room behind him.

“Move quickly Sith, there is not much time.”

“Khem!”

Next behind the Dashade came Rylee, casting furtive glances down the hall as she entered his cell.

“My lord, are you hurt? I did as you asked and brought, your, uh, servant.”

The claws on Khem Val’s feet clicked across the floor. “We will leave this place now and this guard will help us.” He gestured to the man huddled on the floor.

“You...you broke into _Shadow Town?_ ”

“Take this,” Rylee said and she trust some kind of breathing mask into Mordivai’s hands. “You will need it later.”

Khem grabbed the guard by the back of his uniform and hauled him, limp and still whimpering, into the corridor. He dropped him onto his feet and gave him a push to get him moving forward.

“Go,” he growled.

Mordivai followed his small rescue squad down the hall, noting that the grogginess of sleep was being replaced by exhilaration. _They had come for him._ And he hadn’t even been here one full night. He touched Rylee on the arm and leaned close enough to whisper, “How did you break in so fast?”

“One of your members used to work here. He told us not to wait, because you would be scheduled for the implant operation tomorrow.”

Mordivai thought of the chip in his arm. Was it already too late? “Implant?”

“A small explosive planted in your brain, set to detonate if you ever try to leave the premises.”

“Oh.”

Mordivai digested that as he carefully stepped over the shards of a broken security camera. The enthusiasm with which it had been smashed indicated that it was likely Khem’s handiwork. Having a bomb stuck in your head did not sound pleasant. Mordivai was doubly grateful now for his timely rescue.

They came to the security station on this wing of the building and stopped. Here the lights were on, but the room was empty. Rylee drew her wrist up to her lips and spoke in a hush.

“Dunn? We’re about ready for the gas.” She looked up and nodded to Mordivai. “Get ready with the mask.”

Mordivai fiddled with the tangled straps. Were they messing with the ventilation system? It seemed a clever way to bypass all the security personnel, especially in a place as big as this. Mordivai glanced down an adjacent hallway, wondering for a moment just how many prisoners this place housed. There was a trickle of disquiet in the back of Mordivai’s mind, something that made his nerves stand on end. There was something nearby, no someone...a Force user. He revolved in a circle, reaching out now through the Force. There could be dozens of Force users imprisoned here, he reminded himself, and pushed the feeling away. The import of what he was about to do -- break out of Nar Shaddaa’s most notorious Imperial prison -- must be sinking in and making him nervous.

The agitation poking at the back of his mind wouldn’t leave him alone. No, this wasn’t just a Force user. _It was someone he knew._

He bolted down the hallway.

“My lord!” Rylee hissed behind him. Then, “Dunn! Hold up a minute.” He heard her footsteps chasing after him.

Mordivai passed a few empty cells, then one with a sleeping woman in it, and at the next one he stopped. Inside was another sleeping figure sprawled across a cot. Mordivai stared at the form, recognition stealing across his conscious like light spilling through a door. The figure was tall and lanky, with one arm carelessly thrown off the side of the cot.

“Khem!” Mordivai cried. “Get over here now!”

It was Master Praven in there. Somehow, impossibly, he was alive and he was here. Khem stalked over, dragging the reluctant guard behind him.

Mordivai shot the guard a glare. “Open this cell.”

The red force field blinked out and Mordivai surged into the room. “Master Praven!” he called. There was no answer, and for one terrible heartbeat Mordivai thought he was dead. Then he saw the faint rise and fall of Praven’s chest. He called his name again, more urgently this time, and gave his shoulder a gentle shake, but Praven still did not respond.

“Th-th-the Force users are often d-d-drugged.”

Mordivai turned to see the guard standing behind him, looking wide eyed.

“Khem. Carry Master Praven out of here. He’s coming with us.”

The Praven Mordiavi remembered had been hale and strong. But Khem gathered him up like he weighed no more than a child. Mordivai saw with a start that Praven was unnaturally thin, almost wasted away, his red skin sallow like chalk. His hair had grown long, so long that it hung in a limp, black cascade halfway down his back. Khem hoisted Praven over his shoulder and gave Mordivai an expectant look.

Rylee was staring at Praven with a look of confusion. “You had another Sith master?”

“No,” Mordivai said. “He is a Jedi.”

Rylee opened her mouth to ask another question, but Mordivai swept out of the cell. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Rylee shake her head and then bring her wrist back to her mouth.

“Just a few minutes more, Dunn. We had to take a detour.”

They reached the security station and Khem kicked the door open. With a free arm he cleared the top of a nearby desk, knocking off a datapad, some paper, and a mug which shattered when it hit the floor. He deposited Praven on the desktop.

“That tracker needs to come out of your arm, my lord,” Rylee said. “And...your Jedi friend still has his head bomb.” She licked her lips nervously. “I don’t know how we can possible get it out in time.”

Mordivai looked around the room for the guard and found him, crouched in a corner, hovering over some fallen comrades, who looked like they might be dead.

“Guard!”

The man jumped.

“How do you deactivate the detonator in this man’s head?”

“Surgery can remove it,” the guard said. “But...that takes prep work, an hour for the op, and at least another hour for recovery.”

Mordivai felt panic rising in his chest.

“No, there has to be another way. Do prisoners _never_ leave this facility once they come in?”

The guard hesitated, his eyes darting around the room, probably working out his chances of survival, or lack thereof. “It...it can be disabled. With, a concentrated electric shock. Lasts about ten minutes.”

“How?” Mordivai said. He stalked over to the man, his patience wearing thin. The guard held up his hands again.

“The wand.” He pointed across the room. “On that rack. Take it and hold it near his right temple. Activate it for twenty seconds.”

Mordivai moved to where the guard was pointing and found a small hanging rack of black rods, each with a clear dome on one end and some knobs on the other. He grabbed one and spun the knob. A bright arc of electricity leapt from the tip with a sizzle and then retreated. The wand now buzzed faintly in his hand, vibrating like it was filled with insects.

“Somebody...uh...somebody needs to hold him down.” The guard gestured at Praven lying motionless on the table.

Praven was already unconscious. Was this really necessary? Mordivai felt a creeping unease along his spine. Likely the jolt caused involuntary muscle spasms.

“Khem.”

Khem nodded and went to grab Praven’s legs. Mordivai glanced at Rylee. “Take his arms.”

Once Rylee positioned herself, Mordivai took a breath, and went to Praven’s head. He touched the wand to Praven’s temple.

“Don’t touch him with it!” the guard called from behind. “Just hold it near.”

Mordivai adjusted, and then leaned forward on the desk so that he could steady his arms on the table. He activated the wand.

A tiny spark of lightning shot from the rod and connected with Praven’s head. Immediately Praven’s whole body lurched up from the table and a guttural, wordless cry emerged from his throat. One arm slipped free from Rylee’s grasp and flung outwards, knocking her back off her feet with such power that Mordivai knew Praven had used the Force. Mordivai spun to the side of the desk and threw his body across Praven’s chest, trying to pin the wayward arm down. Rylee was back again, reaching for Praven’s flailing wrist. Praven’s body rocked from side to side and Mordivai lost hold of the wand. It dropped from his hand and rolled across the table while Mordivai scrambled after it. Praven grew still.

“Ok,” Mordivai said, straightening and taking a deep breath. “No more messing around. We’ve got to do this and do it fast. Khem, sit on him if you have to.”

Khem grabbed Praven and flipped him onto his back. Then he climbed onto the table and drew Praven’s arms behind his back. He sat on Praven’s legs and leaned forward to crush Praven’s arms under the weight of his torso.

He looked up at Mordivai, his beady eyes lit like a cat’s. “Do it, little Sith.”

Mordivai took one look at Praven, flattened against the desktop like some untrustworthy criminal and cringed. Even frail as he had become, he was still strong, and Mordivai suspected that the jolt from the wand had caused him pain. Praven’s hair splayed across the table in a tangled mess, some of it covering his face like a curtain.

Mordivai positioned himself again at the end of the desk. “I’m sorry Master,” he whispered. Then he activated the wand again.

Praven yelled again, his cry muffled this time by his hair and positioning of the table. Mordivai held the wand steady, trying to count to twenty in his head, afraid that if he rushed, the deactivation wouldn’t have time to work. He had counted to seventeen when an alarm began blaring in the hallway.

“Damn it!” Rylee said.

“Ok...eighteen...nineteen...twenty. Let’s get out of here!” Mordivai threw the wand on the floor and began running for the door. He held it open as Khem rushed out with Praven slung once again over his shoulder, and Rylee followed, shouting words into her wrist comm.

“The gas! Switch it on, Dunn!”

Realizing he had forgotten his mask back in the room, Mordivai pushed past Rylee back inside to snatch it up before chasing after her.

She looked back, her face already obscured by her own mask and Mordivai nodded, quickly donning his own. Khem, he supposed, didn’t need one.

“What gas are you releasing?” he yelled to Rylee. “Will it hurt Praven?”

“No,” Rylee called back. “Just knock him unconscious.”

The corridor before him began to take on a smokey haze, and Mordivai quickened his pace in order to keep sight of Khem loping ahead of him. They passed a few bodies along their path, one or two who even tried to reach for blasters or comms, but the gas worked quickly and no one was able to stop them. Mordivai ran past cells, elevators, side hallways, and stairwells, hoping Rylee knew the lay of this place. She called directions, taking cues from her unseen helper on the comm, and at last they emerged through a final gate into the open air. There was a beat up taxi waiting for them with a droid inside.

“You’re late,” it said. “I have other jobs to do, you know. That’ll be extra-”

“Shut up,” Mordivai said. He lept into the front seat next to Rylee, while Khem sat with Praven stretched out in the back.

The taxi took off and Mordivai tore off his mask and let his head fall back against the seat.

“My lord!” It was Rylee squished next to him. She was gesturing at his arm, her eyes round as coins. “We forgot to take the tracker out!”

Mordivai swore. “And Praven. He must have one too.”

“I have a knife. Give me your arm.”

Mordivai didn’t like the thought of having this chip ripped from his arm while in a careening taxi, but he didn’t have a choice, so he complied. Rylee locked his arm in hers and held a small, sharp pocket knife against his skin.

“Ok, hold on, my lord.”

Mordivai grit his teeth. The pain began and he let out a muffled groan. “Hurry...it...up!”

“Ok, almost there...ok, I got it!” Grinning, Rylee tossed the chip over the side of the flying car, and then reached back to hand Khem the knife so he could remove Praven’s chip. Then she spoke into her comm once more. “We did it! We’re out!”

Mordivai drew the sleeve of his shirt down and held it there. “You guys really did it. You got me out.”

Rylee smiled at him. “We would never have left you there, my lord. Everyone banded together to help you. Listen.”

She held up the comm and Mordivai leaned close. A faint roar like static was coming from it. Cheering, he realized. His people were cheering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going out of town next week for a few days, so there won't be a new chapter next Sunday.


	23. Knowledge is Power

There was a great deal of curiosity about Mordivai’s Jedi guest, and Mordivai had to politely shoo away the onlookers as he got Praven situated in a clean bed in an empty room. There was nothing to do but wait until whatever drugs he’d been given in Shadow Town wore off, so Mordivai set out to find suitable clean clothes that were in Praven’s size, and had them folded and left on a nearby bedstand. Ai’lanynn suggested some towels and one of the “welcome kits” they gave to newly arriving refugees. The kits had a toothbrush, some soap, nail clippers and other necessities. Mordivai left Praven sprawled on the bed, his breathing steady and even.

When Mordivai got up early the next morning, he found the door to Praven’s room ajar and the bed empty. As he approached the dining room, he heard voices, first Ai’lanynn’s -- friendly, casual, even laughing -- and then Praven’s -- calm, subdued, ever confident and slow. Mordivai’s chest constricted and he paused outside the door. He thought of the last time he had seen Praven, back on the passenger ship when he was just a Padawan. Praven soaring through the air to his rescue, yelling for him to run. Praven had sacrificed himself for Mordivai’s escape. And for what? Mordivai had still been captured. Had still become a Sith.

Slowly he entered the room.

Ai’lanynn appeared in his vision first, her beaming face filled with gentle mirth. She was leaning forward, looking expectantly at Praven. “So?”

Mordivai saw Praven next. He was drawing a teacup to his lips. After taking a protracted sip he let out a sigh and smiled. “I never thought having tea again could taste so good.” He looked up then and met eyes with Mordivai.

“Master Praven.” Mordivai give him a brief bow.

Praven’s gaunt face broke into a smile. “Mordivai. So good to see you. I have you to thank for finding me in Shadow Town. I hoped the Force would guide us together again someday.” Praven had pulled back his hair and bound it in a single braid down his back, leaving his face starkly exposed. His cheeks were sunken which made his chin seem longer. Mordivai’s last glimpse of Praven surfaced again in his mind, of his master when he was muscular and fit, his lightsaber raised into the air as he came down upon the Sith who had attacked them. It pained Mordivai to see Praven looking so frail now.

Ai’laynn slid out of her chair and moved towards the door, giving Mordivai an encouraging smile as she left. Mordivai felt a moment of panic at being left alone with Praven, and he envied Ai’lanynn’s easy manner with strangers. He sat a few places away from his former master.

“Ai’laynn has made me some exquisite tea. And she told me how you two met.” Praven’s face turned grave. “A lot has happened since we parted.”

“It has.” Mordivai swallowed. “I thought you were dead.”

Praven’s smile was kind. “I can’t be killed so easily. And I’d be sure to come back and haunt you if I had.”

Mordivai blinked at him until Praven broke into a laugh. Praven paused to take another sip of tea. Then came the bomb that Mordivai had been waiting for.

“The people here call you “lord.”

Mordivai felt a painful surge of shame and he looked down at the table. “I am no longer a Jedi, Master Praven.”

“I will not judge you, Mordivai. Just tell me what happened.”

Mordivai straightened in the chair. “I was captured. Sold into slavery. Then, later...I was sent to Korriban.”

Praven merely nodded. Feeling exasperated at Praven’s lack of reaction, Mordivai continued. “I _graduated_ Korriban. And I killed three acolytes to get there.”

“You _survived_ Korriban,” Praven corrected. “You did what was required of you.”

“I have a Sith master.”

“Do you want to be a Sith?”

“I…” The question had taken Mordivai by surprise. “I cannot be a Jedi.”

“Why not?”

_Because killing those acolytes felt good. Because I reveled in their fear. Because while on Korriban I found a power within me that I never knew I had._

“The Jedi want me to deny a part of who I am.”

Praven’s eyes missed nothing and Mordivai felt keenly aware that Praven was studying him now.

“So you think you can not be a Jedi. But I also asked you if you _want to be a Sith._ ”

Mordivai stared at the tablecloth. “I don’t know what I want sometimes.” Why couldn’t there be a third option?

Praven finished his tea and sat back in his chair. “Ai’lanynn tells me that you rescued her from slavery. That you spared a man who had tormented you when you were a slave. She said that you even gave a second chance to a member here who attempted to betray you. To me, those sound like the actions of a Jedi.”

“It was the right thing to do. But there is more to being a Jedi than showing mercy.”

“True.” Praven’s eyes roved the room. “You have quite the operation here. I understand you are protecting these people from being sent to Korriban. What do you plan to do with them long term?”

Mordivai was getting tired of these difficult questions. _How should I know?_ he wanted to yell. Instead, Mordivai shrugged. “Many of them just want to live normal lives, free from the influence of the Sith or the Jedi. A few of them are strong enough to become Sith themselves.” He glanced at Praven. “Or Jedi.”

“You have been kind to them.”

Mordivai leaned forward on his elbows. “Would you take some of them back to Tython with you?”

For a moment, Praven looked surprised, but then he nodded. “If they express an interest in the Order, I will talk to the Grand Master and see about bringing them to Tython.”

“Thank you.”

Praven stood up, slowly, as if the motion pained him, and nodded to Mordivai. “Enough discussion for this early hour. Time to see to other things.”

He left Mordivai alone in the dining room. Mordivai sat for a moment, waiting for his frayed nerves to knit back together. Praven had not condemned him at least. Could he go back to Tython? To being a Jedi? He thought of how easy it had been to Force choke Destris, how quick and effortless the motion had become. He thought of the new recruits here, who were still counting on him to take out Paladius. He thought of his parents, expecting him to carry on a legacy going back centuries. He thought of things he still had not experienced. He had been in love with Zayla, he had shared in physical pleasures, but both at the same time? Never. He wondered if Praven missed loving someone, and being loved back.

Most of all, he thought of the Imperials he would have to fight as a Jedi. His own people.

His mind tired of such thoughts, and he rose and made himself some toast. There would be time to ponder this more later.

00o00

That night he dreamed of Korriban. He was back in the tomb, fighting for his life, pushing against the enormous stone slab as it closed him in. The darkness smothered him, and as his tiny space grew smaller, his panic rose ever higher.

“Good bye and good riddance, freak.” It was Ffon’s voice, calling through the crack in the door. “You were a terrible Jedi, and an even worse Sith.”

Mordivai screamed and threw himself at the door. Ffon’s bright eyes appeared at the door’s shrinking crack, his laughter fading as the tomb grew quiet. Mordivai pressed his face against the remaining sliver of light, his breathing loud in the cramped space, the blood rushing through his ears. Another voice reached him, but it was not Ffon’s.

“It had to be done, Mordivai. You cannot walk both paths.”

As the door slid into place and utter darkness descended, Mordivai saw that it was Praven now standing outside the tomb, hefting the last of the stone slab into place.

Mordivai tore himself awake, his heart pounding in his ears. He was drenched in sweat and tangled among the blankets of his bed. He climbed out of bed, surveying the now familiar room. A sliver of light stabbed its way across the floor from a narrow row of windows, illuminating a dresser and chair. Normal objects in a normal, unremarkable room.

Mordivai rubbed his damp shirt across his skin, trying to dry the remains of the sweat from his body, then gave up and peeled it off in favor of a fresh shirt instead. He wandered out into the hallway on bare feet.

Next door, in the room he had started referring to as his “study,” Mordivai collapsed on a couch and stared morosely at Ke’leth Ur’s holocron sitting on a nearby table. Ke’leth Ur had been a Sith trying to walk the path of the light, and what had they done to him? They had sealed him away in a tomb in the dark temple, burying him and all his ideas with him. Such was the fate of Sith who towed the line between light and dark. Maybe he really was a freak.

There was a rustle, and Praven appeared in the doorway. He was dressed for bed, but did not appear as if he had been sleeping.

“May I sit down?”

“Of course.” Mordivai gestured to a chair opposite him and Praven settled into it.

“Do you suffer from nightmares?” Praven asked.

Mordivai nodded, feeling self-conscious and wondering if Praven had felt the emotional fallout from his dream through the Force. “Of Korriban.”

Praven stared ahead at nothing. “Sometimes I dream I am back in the dungeons of the Citadel in Kaas City, enduring their torture all over again.”

“You are stronger than I would have been,” Mordivai said. Would Praven have given in to anger and killed those acolytes if it had been _him_ sealed into a tomb on Korriban?

“Don’t be so sure.” Praven looked up and gave Mordivai a sad smile. There was something haunted in his eyes, a pain that had not been there in Mordivai’s days as a Padawan. “When you found me yesterday in Shadow Town, I had given up. I decided that being one with the Force was preferable to life as a mindless lump in a cell. I was in the middle of a hunger strike when you came along. I was trying to die.”

Mordivai shook his head. “I…” he wasn’t sure what to say. “That’s terrible.” Leave it to Praven to find a way to take control over his own death. Didn’t he realize that Mordivai admired him even still for that?

“Dromund Kaas was a nightmare, but at least there I knew I was _alive._ ”

“I’m glad you didn’t succeed, Master Praven. How long were you in Kaas City before they moved you to Shadow Town?”

“Seven months.” Praven tugged on the hem of his shirt, pulling it down to reveal bare skin. A grid of lines was drawn across Praven’s chest, wide, evenly spaced rows of scars painted like stripes. “After skinning strips off of me didn’t make me repent my treacherous ways, they eventually gave up and sent me to Nar Shaddaa.”

Mordivai was shocked. “I’m sorry.”

“We all have our trials.”

“I’m surprised they didn’t just kill you.”

Praven smirked. “Being a Pureblood has its benefits. Or curses. To kill me would have been an insult to my family’s name.”

Praven waved away any more questions and gestured to the table that sat between them. “I see you keep a Sith holocron. Whose is it?”

Mordivai took a moment to shift mental gears. “Ke’leth Ur’s. He was killed and buried in the Dark Temple on Dromund Kaas. He believed that fear was not the only route to power, and that even Sith had something to learn from the light.”

“Interesting,” Praven said. “I can see why he was persecuted. Have you been studying his teachings?”

“Actually,” Mordivai admitted reluctantly, “I can’t open it.”

“What have you tried?”

“I realized early on that it could only be opened by the Force, so I have been meditating on it, trying to find its trigger.”

Praven chuckled. “You can open a Jedi holocron that way, but for a Sith holocron to show you its secrets, you must command it.”

“Oh.” _Of course,_ Mordivai thought. Then, what was he supposed to do? Yell at it? Say some magic words over it?

Praven leaned forward, studying the holocron with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped before him. He looked up at Mordivai. “Would you like me to show you how to open it?” His voice was quiet, almost a whisper.

Mordivai nodded, surprised at Praven’s offer. Praven grew still, a look of concentration crossing his face. “I haven’t done this is a long time,” he murmured. He raised his hand, lowered it again, then raised it once more and held out it out before the holocron. His arm shot forward like a striking snake, a movement so fast that Mordivai twitched in surprise, and lightning broke from Praven’s fingertips. It engulfed the holocron in a glowing web of light. Mordivai watched, transfixed, as Praven’s familiar face transformed and grew hard. Mordivai thought he saw fire behind his eyes moments before the lightning ceased. Everyone knew that Praven had once been a Sith before converting to a Jedi, but now Mordivai caught a glimpse of the Sith Praven had once been. It was a frightening visage, but it faded just as quickly, and Praven slumped back against the chair, looking spent.

The holocron had broken apart, and its pieces hovered in the air. In the center of the floating remains appeared the tiny holo image of Ke’leth Ur.

“You have questions? Ask,” it said.

“Thank you,” Mordivai breathed.

“You’re welcome. Though I think I will pass on doing that again anytime soon.”

“It’s hard for you now?”

“It...weakens me,” Praven answered.

“I am grateful for your help then.”

“Does your own master keep knowledge of these things from you?”

There it was again. First his mother and now Praven. Of all the artifacts he had fetched for Lord Zash, she had never deigned to show him how to use any of them. “Lord Zash uses me as her errand boy.”

Praven looked up at him. “Be careful. Do you remember all the artifacts she has been collecting? Perhaps a visit to Dromund Kaas or Korriban is in order to research these things. You need to find out what she is up to.”

“I know.” Mordivai sighed. “I will.”

“Lord Zash...I’m surprised she’s still around. She was a fixture on Korriban already when I was an acolyte. She must be practically ancient by now.”

“Well, she doesn’t look it,” Mordivai said. “She’s looks a lot younger than you.”

“Creating that illusion must take a lot out of her.”

Mordivai wondered if that’s what Zash was using all those Sith artifacts for, to fuel her youthfulness. It all seemed rather petty. Was Mordivai putting his life in danger just to indulge his master’s vanity?

Praven gathered himself and rode to his feet. “I’ll leave you to enjoy your newly opened holocron.” He smiled and Mordivai nodded.

“Thank you,” Mordivai called again as Praven left the room. Praven kept asking him why he couldn’t resume his life as a Jedi, yet he had made the effort to open this Sith holocron. Mordivai understood the importance of this gift. He gently pulled the holocron closer. The tiny figure of Ke’leth Ur hovered over the holocron, and there were questions to be asked and answers to seek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the gap in posting! RL has been keeping me busy. Thanks for reading everyone!


	24. The Trap is Set

Mordivai waited with Khem in the shadows. From his vantage point behind this dumpster, he could see the entrance to Paladius’s main warehouse. Dunn, the slicer who had helped extract Mordivai from Shadow Town, had given him the location. From the outside, it was nothing more than a skinny metal door, dingy and pock-marked, hidden away in a nondescript alley. Paladius would not be there of course. If it were that easy to find him, Mordivai would have come here first all along. But he was not going to wait to try and flush out Paladius a second time. He’d had enough games. It was time to bring Paladius to him.

He and Khem had endured one false start when a vagabond chose the alley as a suitable spot to relieve himself, but shortly after he left, a cult member showed up, glanced around and approached the door. He raised his right wrist and held it up against the front face of the door, and Mordivai realized that a small scanning device must be hidden in the door itself, and that this cult member likely had a readable chip implanted under the skin behind his hand. The man jiggled the old fashioned door handle and there was a faint pop.

Mordivai drew the shadows around him, imagining the Force as a cloak, and then sped across the alleyway, using the Force to enhance his stride, making him no more than a momentary blur. He appeared at the man’s side and pressed his lightsaber hilt against the soft flesh of the man’s middle.

“Leave the door open and step inside. Don’t say a word.”

The man stiffened in surprise and his eyes darted to the side. Mordivai had become more cautious of late, and so the man saw nothing but a metal mask sunken into the depths of Mordivai’s hood. He twisted suddenly to the other side, and Mordivai jabbed him deeper with his hilt, but he was only catching sight of Khem now standing by his opposite shoulder. Mordiavi felt the man’s spike of panic.

The man was young, and was dressed in the jumpsuit of a warehouse worker. Mordivai had no interest in hurting any of Paladius’s cult members, but he didn’t feel any such qualms about Paladius’s possessions. He hoped this worker would cooperate.

The man swallowed, audibly loud, and finished unlatching the door. He gave it a push and it swung open, revealing a cavernous room whose only windows were high up along the rafters. The bright lights of Nar Shaddaa cast faint circles along the ground, like colored candy drops, and all around were stacks of barrels and crates, some of which rose nearly to the ceiling.

They stepped inside and Mordivai nodded to Khem, who shoved the door closed with one clawed hand and made to stand behind it. The worker flinched at the sound of the door slamming shut.

“Get out your holo,” Mordiva instructed. “You have one, don’t you?”

The man nodded and fumbled in his pocket. He fished out his comm unit but then nearly dropped it. His hands were shaking.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Mordivai said. “My fight is with Paladius. Get him on the comm.”

With a trembling finger, the man punched in the frequency then held out the comm to Mordivai. Mordivai stepped back, gesturing for the man to keep the comm unit in his palm. A moment later, Paladius appeared.

“What’s the matter, Vech?”

Paladius sounded annoyed. Vech stuttered a few words before Mordivai decided to interrupt.

“Paladius!”

Paladius turned his head and bristled.

“Thought you could get rid of me?” Mordivai continued. “Guess where I am now?”

“You upstart! Weaseled your way out of Shadow Town did you? And now you’re harassing my people?”

Mordivai crossed his arms. “No, not your people. Just you.”

“What do you want then?”

“Come to your warehouse and meet me face to face.”

Paladius laughed. “Why would I do that?”

“Because I can’t kill you over holo.”

“My besting you the first time wasn’t enough, was it? Go bother someone else. I don’t have time for this.”

Paladius waved a hand and looked as if he was about to cut the call. Mordivai lit his lightsaber.

“What?” Paladius said irritably. “You going to kill Vech now? He would gladly die to protect his brothers and sisters, wouldn’t you Vech? You underestimate my followers.”

Mordivai looked at Vech, pale and sweating, his eyes darting between Paladius and Mordivai, and thought, _perhaps you underestimate their loyalty._

“I’m not interested in Vech,” Mordivai said quickly. He spun and jabbed the nearest barrel stacked behind him, and it hissed as his lightsaber punctured the metal. There was a sizzle as the liquid inside rapidly heated in the presence of his lightsaber blade, and then a popping sound as he withdrew it. Immediately a thick, clear liquid began to pulse from the barrel, slopping loudly onto the floor.

“Hey-”

Mordiavi ignored Paladius and stabbed another two barrels in quick succession. By the time he had finished with the third, a groaning was coming from the first barrel. The metal around the puncture suddenly split, and the entire barrel burst open, sloshing its content across Vech’s feet. The second and third barrels soon followed suit.

“The vaccine!” Vech howled. He sounded genuinely distressed, and Mordivai noticed that he had called Paladius’s concoction a “vaccine,” like Rylee had. Mordivai had no doubt that this was the precious substance being added to their water supply in order to dampen their Force sensitivity. Could it be that Paladius’s cult actually saw the Force as something to be cured?

“Stop it!” Paladius was yelling. “Do you know how much each of those barrels cost?”

“You care more about your supplies than you do your members, Paladius.” Mordivai stabbed a fourth barrel, and then a fifth. From the corner of his vision, he saw Khem watching him, his eyes aglow as he surveyed the destruction with something akin to lust.

“You’re the one hurting them, not me!” Paladius said. “You’re taking away their protection! Their very survival!”

Mordivai paused, his lightsaber poised in front of another barrel. “Or maybe I am freeing them, Paladius. Look at Vech here, too afraid to face me and fight, even if it meant fighting for his life! You deny him his birthright as a proper Sith, just as you deny all of your followers!”

“Rubbish,” Paladius muttered, then raised his voice again as Mordiavi swung towards yet another barrel. “Enough! I’m on my way to stop your little tantrum. Just you wait.” He thrust a finger in Mordivai’s direction and the holo went dead.

Mordivai finished off the barrel nearest to him and watched with satisfaction as the liquid drained out. “Good.” His boots sloshed across the floor as he crossed the aisle to a pallet on the other side. There were more barrels there, plump with that poison Paladius thought of as a vaccine. He jabbed his lightsaber into the nearest one, this time slashing a wide gash that split open like a grin.

He glanced up at Vech, who was staring at him in open horror, the holo still poised in his hand.

“Leave if you want. Or stay and help me destroy more barrels.”

“W-w-what?” Vech went to return the holocomm to his pocket, but missed it entirely. The comm fell and splashed into the large, rapidly growing puddle at Vech’s feet. “No! You can’t destroy them all! I-I mean, don’t, please.”

“You don’t need this stuff, Vech,” Mordivai said. “Paladius is using it to control you, to leave you powerless. You have power in you-” At this, Vech began shaking his head, but Mordivai knew his attempt at a lie was a desperate one. “-Yes, it’s in you, and you don’t have to deny it. Embrace it, learn to use it. You are its master, not the other way around!”

Mordivai could hear the passion rising in his voice and realized that he meant what he said. This is where the Jedi had gone wrong. What was the use of having this magnificent gift if one was afraid to set it free? The Force was not meant to be meek or humble, it was a power that begged to be unleashed, it was meant to ignite like fuel. After all, it had not been restraint that had saved Mordivai in the tombs. It had only been when he had lost himself in fury and pain and determination that he had bested Khem and found an escape.

“Be what you were meant to be.”

Vech just stared at Mordivai, perhaps not yet ready to contemplate what his life might look like without the vaccine as his crutch. Mordivai sighed. “Get out of here.” He said it gently, with weariness, rather than malice. “I’m going to burn this place to the ground. If you change your mind, if you want to learn to control your power, or even to just hide it, come find Ur House.” That was the name that the Kelethurians had given to the refuge he had created for them.

Vech nodded, then stooped to snatch up the drenched comm, and raced towards the door. Khem stepped aside to let him pass, and then resumed his place as guard. Mordivai busied himself destroying barrels.

Perhaps Paladius’s pleasure barge wasn’t far, because only a quarter hour had passed before Mordivai heard a commotion outside the warehouse door. He nodded to Khem, who moved into the shadows nearby.

The door flew open, and a torrent of vivid blue lightning cut across the room, quickly followed by Paladius himself, already on the offensive, stalking forward with arms outstretched.

Mordivai blocked the onslaught with his saber. Paladius had some skill with Force abilities, but, as Mordivai had suspected, he was not well versed in lightsaber combat. Mordivai dodged across the slippery floor, gradually working his way beneath Paladius’s defences, chipping away at Paladius’s guard. Mordivai was faster, more agile, and better practiced than Paladius, and while Paladius fought with grimness and true anger, he soon grew winded. Mordivai danced around him like a shifting spark of light, here one moment and gone the next, using the Force to augment his ability to slip unseen into the corners of Paladius’s vision. Paladius spun dizzily, his blasts of lightning chipping permacrete from the floor but failing to find their mark, until at last Mordivai saw an opening and took it. His lightsaber slashed a wide gash across Paladius’s chest, and the Sith slumped to the ground, his eyes blinking vaguely, a look of shock etched on his face.

Mordivai bent forward and snatched the sith artifact dangling around Paladius’s neck, breaking the chain. He raised his lightsaber to finish the job.

“Master.” It was Khem, stepping forward from the shadows into a pool of light. He was gazing at Paladius hungrily. He gestured with an open claw at the dying man at their feet. “You have beaten your rival. Now let me have the feast that remains.”

Mordivai knew that Khem grew strong from siphoning power off of Force users, and he’d allowed this on occasion, although he had never lingered to watch. He nodded at Khem and stepped back, some lurid fascination drawing his gaze even as he knew he should turn away.

Khem leaned over Paladius and reached down to sink his claws into the rich fabrics of Paladius’s robes. He drew the huge man towards him, easily lifting him upright from the ground, the muscles of his arms shifting like cords beneath his dusky skin. Then he bent close, angling his head over Paladius. To Mordivai’s surprise, Paladius didn’t struggle. Instead he stared, transfixed, into Khem’s red eyes, his arms falling away, and his head lolling drunkenly like a man hypnotized.

“Thank you, Master,” Khem murmured, his deep, gravelly voice rippling like a shiver down Mordivai’s spine. Then he simply…breathed in.

Mordivai saw nothing at first. Khem was motionless, but the sound of his drawn breath was like a gathering wind, continuing on long after a normal breath would have ended. And then Mordivai saw it, a faint miasma, like a fog or a puff of air in the cold, gathering around Paladius. Khem drew it in, and the cloud unravelled like yarn, disappearing into Khem’s gaping jaws. Paladius grew pale, his eyelids fluttering closed, and his head slumped back. Still the siphoning went on, until the cloud gradually diminished and faded. There was a last gust of air and then Khem dropped Paladius’s body to the ground. Khem remained still a moment, his eyes closed, and Mordivai fancied that he saw the monster’s body actually expanding as it grew physically larger.

Khem turned his head and spotted Mordivai staring. What look Khem saw pasted across Mordivia’s face, he could only guess, but the Dashade chuckled deep in his throat and rose to his full height. His eyes glittered.

“Shall we go?”

“Yes,” Mordivai said, taking a moment to find his voice. “But I want to set this place on fire first.”

They left behind a smoking ruin where Paladius’s warehouse had once been, effectively gutting not only Paladius’s supplies but any chance of anyone else in his old cult rising up to take the reins. Mordivai returned to his sanctuary and wasted no time calling Lord Zash on the holo.

“It’s done,” he told her when her form materialized before him. He dangled the necklace from his fingers for Zash to see. Her eyes locked on it and she smiled.

“Well done, apprentice.” Her voice was almost breathless with glee. “Come to Kaas City right away. No detours now, I’m eager to see you.”

“Of course,” Mordivai said, knowing full well that seeing _him_ had nothing to do with it.

He had arrangements to make before he could leave, however. Rylee was still trying to prove herself and was overgear to take on any task. Mordivai set her to work under Ai’lanynn’s guidance. Mordivai also had to say goodbye to his old master, which didn’t prove as difficult as he had initially feared.

“We will see each other again,” Praven assured him. “Even if it’s just to check in and see if you have any more aspiring Padawans for me.” Behind Praven was gathered a small entourage of refugees whose newly discovered Force sensitivity had showed promise, and who Praven thought would make good candidates for the Jedi Order. Mordivai felt a little strange seeing them go, even if he hadn’t gotten the chance to get to know many of them all that well. Those who had gravitated towards Praven were the most focused and dogmatic of the group, many of them easily latching onto the strictures of the Order as a suitable substitute for their former lives as cult members. He hoped they would do well. Such dedication, he knew, would carry them far, but it also meant that any break with the Order would be all the more traumatic should they lose faith in those high ideals.

Mordivai went to sleep that night with Kel’eth Ur’s holocron set next to his bedside.

“Help me,” he whispered as he slipped under the covers. “I want to follow you but I don’t know how.”

The holocron stayed closed and silent, its secrets safely tucked away for now.


	25. A Hidden Purpose

A thin, tinny voice was calling Mordivai’s name. He shifted out of sleep and opened his eyes. He was in his bedroom in the Ur House sanctuary on Nar Shaddaa. Nothing was amiss. A small suitcase laid packed on a chair nearby, ready for Mordivai’s trip to Dromund Kaas. As Mordivai looked around, however, the room began to shift, gradually taking on elements of his old quarters back on Tython, austere and bare. _I’m dreaming,_ Mordivai realized. Beside his bed the holocron still sat, but when Mordivai’s gaze fell upon it, it opened, breaking apart of its own accord to cast a flickering light across the walls of the room. In the center was Kel’eth Ur.

“Mordivai,” the tinny voice said again, coming this time from Kel’eth Ur’s transparent figure. “You are in danger.”

“From what?” Mordivai sat up in bed. “From whom?”

The figure pointed, gesturing towards something behind him. Mordivai spun to look but there was nothing there.

“Do not walk unprepared into the unknown,” Kel’eth Ur said. “Do not be afraid to seek help.”

“But who can help me?”

“Trust in the dead.”

“The dead? I don’t understand.”

“The ancestor knows and will give you the truth. Heed what he says!”

“My ancestor?”

“Not yours, another’s. But you will know him when the time comes.”

Kel’elth Ur’s voice was diminishing and his figure growing dim. Mordivai leaned over the edge of the bed. “This ancestor...he’s a ghost? Is he a Jedi? A Sith?”

The walls fluttered with the last light of the holocron and the room went dim. Mordivai slumped back onto the pillow. He became aware of a light behind his eyelids and he blinked a few times, trying to pull himself out of sleep. When at last he opened his eyes, for real this time, he was back in his true room on Nar Shaddaa, untransformed and solid. He sat up slowly, the remains of the dream still clinging to him. It had felt so real.

The light he had sensed upon waking was here. Mordivai looked to the night table. The holocron was there, closed up. Mordivai stared, his heart picking up pace. An ethereal glow clung to the holocron, the center faintly pulsing with life. Like a heartbeat, it alternately dimmed and brightened, the rhythm gradually slowing, until the intervals grew longer and less frequent. Then it dimmed entirely and Mordivai was left wondering if his sleep-rattled brain had imaged it all.

00o00

Mordivai walked through the vaulted corridors of the Sith Citadel in Kaas City, noticing closed doors, elevators and dark hallways that he had never entered. Which ones might lead to the dungeons where Master Praven had been kept? To think such terrible things could be happening to people right now, at this very moment, in some dank hole under his feet, made him uncomfortable. He’d known that the Sith interrogated their prisoners of course, had known that they used torture, but as a child he had taken it for granted that these things happened to people who deserved it, who were traitors, self-righteous Jedi or their sympathizers, not people he knew. Not people he admired. The Jedi, he understood now, were not so blindly misinformed as he had been led to believe, but neither were they innocent. They had all but tried to eradicate the Sith and their ways, and thought nothing of taking a child away from his parents, lying to him, and then raising him under their beliefs. How could he follow either the Jedi or the Sith with a clear conscience?

_I have already chosen,_ he thought. _I am Sith, by heritage and by blood. But I will choose what kind of Sith I am. I will forge a new path if need be._

Could it be done?

Mordivai had spent two hours engrossed within the depths of the Sith Archives, but had quickly gotten lost among the sheer volume of information there. He found references to the artifacts he’d been collecting for Zash, stories of their origin or significance, but little of use. He finally moved on to a section of the archive devoted to ritual and arcane Force methods, but here the divide between myth and fact was blurry and frequently disputed. He searched for files on “glamor,” “youth,” “illusion,” and other such terms, but nothing specific jumped out at him. He tried “immortality” and quickly got bogged down in works on the Emperor. There were some interesting mentions of bodily possession and mental control, but when Mordivai tried to access these files for more information, he discovered that they were restricted. He wasn’t surprised. The Emperor guarded his secrets.

Zash had said that these artifacts could be combined in a ritual that would make both her and him more powerful, but “power” was a vague term and could refer to any number of Sith abilities and enhancements. That Zash did not really intend to share such bounty with him, Mordivai had no doubt, but why bother with the subterfuge? She could order him to do anything, and he would be obligated to obey, but she had tried instead to buy his loyalty, or maybe she was appealing to what she assumed would be common greed. Mordivai guessed that the real reason was that she didn’t want him using the artifacts on himself. She would keep him in the dark, and then take what she had planned all along. And then? She would discard him.

He had to play along for now, be the devoted apprentice. It was a game of course, since no one really expected an apprentice to stay loyal forever. But it was too early for rebellion just yet.

Mordivai finally came to Zash’s office. The door was open, and light spilled out into the hallway. From within Mordivai could hear voices. He stepped through the door.

“Apprentice!” Lord Zash gave him a dazzling smile, her blue eyes alight. Two other Sith stood with her around a table, both female. One of them could have been a younger twin of Zash, her hair was nearly the same color blonde. She looked up when Mordivai entered, and her round, cherubic face broke into a pleasantly bland smile, but there was challenge in her blue eyes and Mordiavi felt cold under her stare. She knew he was a rival and wasn’t going to try and hide it. He recognized her from the holo his mother had shown him, and this was confirmed when Zash introduced her.

“This is my new apprentice, Ciela.”

Mordivai had been prepared for this, so he wasn’t shocked by the knowledge that he was not the only Sith under Zash’s tutelage. He schooled his face to impassivity and gave her a minute bow of acknowledgement. Then the second Sith looked up.

Mordivai felt an immediate shiver. If he had thought Ciela was cold, meeting this Sith was like being plunged into frigid waters. A strange sensation prickled across Mordivai’s scalp like a blade of ice making a close call across his skin. The Sith reached up and pulled back the cowl that covered her face.

Recognition jolted through him. This was his mother’s old apprentice. The same Sith who had given him his first rudimentary lessons on the duelsaber when he was a child.

“Jaesa,” he said.

Zash let out a delighted laugh. “I see you know each other already. You may call her Lord Agonia now though.”

The uncanny scrutiny that Moridvai had felt from her moments before eased, and an expression of recognition passed across her face.

“Mordivai. All grown up now, are you? I didn’t know you had become Sith.” Her eyes raked over him, shamelessly and with obvious appraisal, and Mordivai was reminded of Shastine and her friend Kertrin back in his days as a slave. He felt immediate revulsion. What had his mother said about Jaesa? Something about exotic appetites and wanton violence.

The three woman were all staring at him, and the way they were arranged behind the table, with him standing alone in front of them, made him feel less like a fellow Sith and more like a supplicant. He was growing uncomfortable.

“So?” Zash said. “Do you have the artifact?”

“Of course.” Mordivai got it out and approached to present it to Zash. She snatched it out of his hand and then just as quickly hid it in her robes.

“That’s all for now. Thank you apprentice.”

No new assignment? No more artifacts? Mordivai stood dumbly before them for a moment before nodding and turning away. The whole exchange left him feeling off-kilter and unsettled. He could feel three sets of eyes watching him in silence as he left.

00o00

Mordivai used his newly acquired spare time to train with Overseer Kryos, the Twi’lek who had begun honing his skills in the double-bladed lightsaber. Since Mordivai had spent the last month on Nar Shaddaa, he had been forced to take lessons by means of an interactive holodisk, but that was no substitute for real practice, he discovered. Kryos knocked him on his back too many times to count, shaking his head and admonishing Mordivai for his lagging reflexes. Mordivai checked in regularly with Ai’lanynn via holocomm, and as things continued to proceed well with the refuge, he decided to stay in Kaas City and continue training with Kryos.

Daytime was spent training in the park just outside the Kaas City walls, where Mordivai had first met Kryos, leaning to fight among all kinds of terrain. Nights he spent in the archives, trying to piece together answers. The more he discovered about Zash’s strange artifacts, the more uneasy he became. Other Sith in ancient times had sought immortality, and some of their methods were gruesome and unsavory. Many Sith had attempted immortality and failed. Mordivai took note of their names anyway, thinking that later he might be able to work his way deeper into the archives, where the Sith holocrons were kept. Many of these Sith, he knew, had left behind holo journals of their efforts, wanting to secure what fame they could for any discovery made, even unsuccessful ones.

During one of his wanderings he discovered where the Sith holocrons were kept, but the area was blocked behind an energy wall, and a code was required to enter. The librarian at the door attempted to be solicitous, asking if he wanted to see if his Sith master would send over an approval for entry. Mordivai quickly assured the librarian that this was unnecessary.

After leaving the archives that night, he found himself growing wary. Was there a record of every search he made? His arrivals and departures? What he chose to linger over and what he discarded? His paranoia grew, and Mordivai began to wonder if he was being watched. Would Zash send someone to spy on him?

One night, Mordivai got so drawn into what he was reading, that he lost track of time until the lights were finally shut off around him. He cursed his inattentiveness, for now he had done something noteworthy and possibly memorable. He left quickly, pulling his hood around his face when he passed by the security cameras.

It was pouring rain when he got outside, and Mordivai was drenched before he had even left the building’s courtyard. The splatter of the rain against the pavement and the irregular clatter of thunder would drown out the sound of anyone nearby. How would he know if he was being followed, if he couldn’t hear their footsteps? Mordivai took to using the Force technique that Kryos had taught him that allowed him to move unseen. He was doing it so often now that it was almost second nature.

Another figure walked ahead of him, a woman by the look of her slighter build. She was hunched over in the rain, hurrying along as quickly as Mordivai was. There was a curfew at this hour for all Imperial citizens who were not Sith, so she was either hoping to not get caught, or she was Sith herself.

Mordivai might not have paid her any more notice had she not done something strange while he was watching. She stepped off the paved pathway and stood next to a fountain. She paused there, standing very still, and Mordivai stopped, realizing that she was searching through the Force for anyone nearby who might see her. He pulled deeper into himself, making his Force signature as tight and guarded as he could.

She raised her hand then, and gestured towards the fountain. A small land speeder rose up out of the water at her command. She pushed it through the air, out of range of the fountain, and let it settle on the ground. Then she climbed on and started the engine. Its hum was drowned out by the storm.

What made this display particularly odd was that there was a public speeder transport clearly visible a few hundred meters away, with a droid in attendance, and plenty of available speeders for rent.

The woman took off and as she did so, her cowl flew back, revealing her face and hair.

Ciela.

Mordivai sped towards the taxi pad and grabbed a speeder of his own. He jammed a credit stick into the meter and took off after her.

She disappeared into the jungle surrounding Kaas City, and Mordivai had to gun the engine to keep her in view. She did not take any of the pre-programmed speeder paths, nor did she travel along the winding, scenic paths used by tourists. Instead she took off through the wild brush, and Mordivai was forced to dodge vines and skim over rivers as she had done. It wasn't long, however, before he recognized where she was headed. The huge dome of the spaceport came into view and Mordivai slowed down, cutting the throttle and drifting over the soggy ground. She stopped her speeder and dumped it among some brambles. Then she ran into the spaceport.

Mordivai followed.

Ciela did not enter through the main door, but rather snuck through the woods to the back of the building and slipped through a service door. The door had locked behind her by the time Mordivai reached it, but it was not security rigged, and he was easily able to disengage the lock using the Force. Once inside, however, the trail went cold.

Mordivai ran towards the first hangar door he came to, and looked at the departure display reading. It was blank. He checked the next, and the next, running halfway down the hallway before he found something. The eighth computer was lit up, the screen pulsing wildly. As Mordivai approached, he could see the information racing across the screen abnormally fast, and he realized that all the data was being systematically deleted. Bay number, departure code, ship title and owner. Deleted, deleted, deleted, faster than he could read it. Then the last word flashed across the screen and was gone. But not before Mordivai had caught it.

Taris. The ship’s destination.

Mordivai turned and ran, making for the hangar bay where his own ship was docked. He whispered fiercely into his comm.

“Khem! Meet me at the spaceport. We’re leaving for Taris.”


	26. Following the Trail

Twenty years ago, the Empire and Republic had fought over the remains of Taris, but for long as Mordivai was alive, it had been under Imperial control. That didn’t mean that the planet was violence-free however. There were still pockets of stubborn squatters refusing to leave their run-down hovels, and the Rakghoul plague ran rampant in the remote wilds. Only bio-medical researchers, mining companies, and archeologists risked going there now. The deepest ruins of the ancient cities still held treasures, scrap metals, and enough disease to keep the virus specialists busy for decades.

Ciela had to be here searching for another of Lord Zash’s elusive artifacts, and so once he arrived on planet, Mordivai went straight to the office of the Imperial Reclamation Service to see if they had any record of her arrival. He approached the first desk he saw, where a woman in uniform was busy typing away at a data terminal.

“Did a Sith come through here recently? Female, with blonde hair?”

“A blonde Sith came in this morning needing directions to Site Besh,” the woman answered. “I didn’t ask her name.”

“Did she ask for any supplies? Take anyone with her?”

“No, my lord. She just mentioned that her job was very time sensitive, so she didn’t stay long.”

“I need coordinates to this Site Besh.”

“Of course, my lord.” The woman consulted a terminal and Mordivai slid his datapad across the counter for her to connect to. He waited, listening to the clacking of her keyboard. 

She paused and glanced up at him. “One of our outlying sites was recently discovered to be occupied. You should be aware that there may be additional dangers out there besides the usual wildlife.”

“What do you mean, ‘occupied?’”

“Could be a smuggling operation trying to sneak artifacts out. They’re no better than pirates and they’ll be armed. Or it could be like what happened last year when we had that holovid crew show up.”

Grave diggers and smugglers Mordivai could understand. Plenty of the artifacts here were worth money on the black market. But had she said a _holovid crew?_

“You had a holovid crew here?”

The woman handed his datapad back to him. “You ever seen the show, ‘Ghost Hunters?’”

Mordivai shook his head.

“They flit around our sites trying to get vids of paranormal activity, and we shoo them out because they stomp all over the grounds and disturb the artifacts. Not dangerous, but they are annoying and could disrupt your work.”

“This sounds like more of a job for security.”

“Yes, my lord, it would be. But the difference is that this site really is haunted. It’s why we haven’t sent a dig team in ourselves yet. We need someone to deal with the dark side energies there. We’ve been trying to get Sith help for weeks.”

“Haunted? Do you mean that there’s a ghost at the site?”

“Sith ghost. Yes, my lord. It’s been well documented.”

_Trust in the dead...the ancestor knows…_

Mordivai wondered if this was a sign or just a coincidence. Pursuing this lead, however, would be a detour from his efforts in tracking down Ciela.

“How far away is this haunted site? Is it near Site Besh?”

“It’s a bit to the east of Besh. You wouldn’t get there until dusk, my lord, assuming you left right now.”

Mordivai pondered this. Tracking down Ciela was his immediate concern, but maybe he could check up on the Sith spirit afterwards. “Get me those co-ords too. I’ll see if I can check it out.”

Deelia beamed at him. “Thank you my lord. We appreciate any help you can spare.”

Mordivai went to requisition a speeder. As a Sith he could ask for whatever supplies he needed here with no questions asked. He put the co-ords to Site Besh into the speeder’s navigation system and waited while it computed a route. When he grabbed the handlebars to engage the engine, a pressure swelled inside his skull, and he rubbed at his forehead, wondering if the humidity of Taris was going to give him a headache. He gunned the engine again and set the speeder to follow the planned route.

He made it out of the Reclamation outpost, but not much farther when the dull pain in his head returned and settled behind his eyes. The tried to ignore it, but the further he traveled, the worse it got. Coupled with this was a growing sense of unease. Mordivai glanced down at the thick vegetation he flew over, searching with his mind for the presence of wildlife, or Rakghouls, or anything that could have set off this internal alarm, but he found nothing out of the ordinary. Nevertheless, he couldn’t shake the feeling of impending doom, and at last he slowed the speeder to a stop and looked around.

He cut the engine and was surprised to find that instead of silence, the forest was filled with a cacophony of sound. Birds screeched and chattered overhead, a multitude of different calls, but none of them familiar. In spite of all the noise, Mordivai realized that his headache had eased. He started up the engine and coasted forward. The headache sprang back to life, along with the feeling of wrongness he had felt earlier.

Mordivai had heard the Jedi speak of the Force guiding one’s actions, and he began to wonder if something of deeper meaning was occurring here. He readjusted the navigation controls to point towards the haunted site, instead of site Besh, and let the speeder lead him in that direction. His headache disappeared once again. This site would take him farther into the wilderness of Taris, and he would not be able to make it back in one day. It would pull time away from his goal of tracking down Ciela. But rarely had the Force designed to speak to him so, if that’s indeed what this was, which made Mordivai inclined to listen. He stopped to comm Khem. Then he went back to the outpost for more supplies. _Ghost site, here I come._

By late afternoon, Mordivai was deeply embedded in the swampy wilderness of Taris. The further he traveled, the more remote and abandoned the terrain became. Three hundred years ago, Taris had been a thriving metropolis, with busy speeder lanes, billions of citizens, and skyscrapers almost as impressive as those on Coruscant or Dromund Kaas. But then it had been demolished from orbit by a Sith lord, the Rakghoul plague had been released, and the planet had become a forlorn ruin. In his mother’s time, the Republic had tried cleaning things up and had even encouraged adventurous citizens to relocate here. But the Empire had put a stop to that. Now the Empire was picking the remains of Taris apart like a vulture cleans a carcass, harvesting it for metals and artifacts, and using it for research and military testing. The Empire had outposts all over, tiny pockets of civilization in a primarily uncivilized world. Mordivai knew by the sights around him that he had now entered the true, untouched ruins.

It was beautiful here, in a strange, melancholy way. The setting sun cast rays through the metal bones of ancient towers, and moss and other vegetation dripped from crumbled walls. Swamps had swallowed up some of the buildings, so that they groped out of the ground like sunken ships in a sea of green. Mordivai passed by domed rooftops and fallen debris that looked like strange, man-made mountain ranges of rusted metal. More than once some overly large insect whirred past Mordivai’s ear with a deep-throated buzz.

Mordivai knew he was getting closer to his destination because the presence of the Force was here as well. The darkness he had expected - a restless Sith lay entombed here after all - but the light was here as well, something Mordivai had not foreseen. As he drew nearer, Mordivai noticed chunks of fallen statuary, disembodied hands and feet, and blocks that had been carved to represent the smooth drape of robes. Mordivai slid his speeder to a stop.

The Jedi had constructed this place, Mordivai realized. Perhaps it had been a temple at one time, or a small academy. Mordivai stashed his speeder in some nearby brush and continued the rest of the way on foot.

His instincts were on target. Not much farther in, Mordivai discovered signs of recent activity, and eventually he came across a small transport ship parked headfirst into a thicket of vines and brambles. There were no signs of damage, so Mordivai surmised that the ship had not crashed but had been hidden among the vegetation deliberately. It was growing dark, so Mordivai chose his steps carefully, moving as quietly as possible as he approached the site.

There was a building, still in surprisingly good shape with most of the roof intact, even though vines had blanketed all the walls. Mordivai heard voices and decided to climb to get a better overhead view. The vines were rough and thick, but easily held, and the only real concern he had was watching where he placed his hands and feet to minimize debris from breaking loose along the wall. He made it to the top and scrambled over the crumbling roof to peer over the edge of the building’s opposite side, careful to cloak his presence in the Force.

Down below a cooking fire flickered, and around it sat four figures. Jedi. Mordivai counted one Cathar, one Togruta, and two humans. By the looks of them, they were two Padawans each with their masters. Murmurings of conversation drifted up, along with the smoke from their fire, but Mordivai couldn’t make out any words. They were busy cooking a meal. If he wanted to find this Sith ghost, now would be the time, while they were still preoccupied.

Mordivai crept backwards and maneuvered towards a hole in the building’s roof. The gap yawned wide, and inside was only darkness. Mordivai probed within, but felt no presences through the Force, or living ones, anyway. Along the inside edge was a crumbling interior wall that he thought he could find purchase on, so he began the careful climb down.

It took him longer to descend than he had expected. The going was rough, and he couldn’t see well enough to know where best to climb until he was already there, which meant he had to reverse direction several times and try again from new angles. He had the urge to simply jump directly down the middle of the hole -- the Force would cushion his fall -- but without being able to see what was down there, he couldn’t risk it. He hung carefully from a ledge and swung his feet, trying to time his next planned fall to land on an outcropping of stone below. He released his hands and dropped.

“Hey!”

Mordivai mistimed the jump and bounced off of something as he fell, knocking his fall further off balance. He felt himself tumbling through the air and then he hit bottom, sliding through some rubble, dinging every sharp root and stone on his way down. When he at last settled to a stop and heard a familiar sound by his ear.

The buzz of a lightsaber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Memorial Day to everyone in America this weekend! Bit of a short chapter this week. Thanks for reading and as always, I appreciate your comments!


	27. Captive

The bright blue glow of the lightsaber lit up his vision. Mordivai threw out his hands in a gesture of surrender.

“Wait!” 

In the dark room, Mordivai could just make out the face of the Togruta he had seen earlier. She had dark skin that blended her into the shadows, but from what Mordivai could see of her face, she looked around his age.

“What are you? Some relic thief? Leave now and I’ll let you go with your life.”

“I’m not a thief. I’m...I’m here for the ghost.”

She looked taken aback. “The Sith spirit? What do you want with him? Are you a Sith too?”

“I am a scholar,” Mordivai answered. That was sort of true. “I just want to ask him some questions.”

“He won’t talk to you.” She kept the lightsaber level with his chin.

“How do you know? I haven’t even tried yet.”

“He will only speak to me.”

“Why?”

At this, the Jedi looked uncomfortable. Then she raised her voice and yelled loud enough for the other Jedi outside the building to hear. “Master Ryen! Master Ocera!”

“The Imperial authorities know a group of Jedi are here,” Mordivai said, talking quickly. “If I go missing they’ll send someone for me.” Mordivai wasn’t sure if this were true, but these Jedi were indeed on Taris illegally, and surely they would fear discovery.

“I don’t bargain with thieves,” she said, then added, “or scholars.”

A shadow darkened the wall as a Jedi approached the open doorway from outside.

Mordivai climbed to his feet and pushed aside his robe to pull his lightsaber from his belt, then lit it and slid into a combat stance. He didn’t want to give himself away so soon, but it was one thing to try and talk his way out of trouble with this Padawan, and quite another to get away with it on a Jedi master.

“I don’t want to fight any-” he started to say.

“Is everything all right, Ashara?” The human Jedi came around the corner, spotted Mordivai, and in a split second his face changed, turning hard as stone. He flipped aside his robe and reached for his own lightsaber, immediately igniting the blade and leveling it at Mordivai.

“Get back Ashara,” Master Ocera said.

The Togruta alternated her gaze from one to the other and melded back against a nearby wall. Just then, the sound of another saber being drawn reached Mordivai’s ears, and the Cathar Jedi entered the room.

Mordivai was cornered. How could he realistically survive against two Jedi masters?

“Drop your weapon Sith,” the Cathar said, “and we won’t hurt you.”

Mordivai hesitated, thoughts racing through his head. The Jedi at least were fair to their captives.

“Drop it!” Master Ocera barked.

The twin blades slid back into the hilt and Mordivai let his dualsaber fall to the ground at his feet. He held out his hands.

“Kick it to me,” Master Ocera ordered.

Mordivai did so. The Jedi gestured for Ashara to retrieve it, while the Cathar automatically took a step forward in a gesture that told Mordivai not to try anything.

“Get the cuffs Ryen,” Ocera said. “I’ll hold him.” The Cathar nodded and left the room. “What are you doing here?” The Jedi glanced up at the hole in the ceiling where Mordivai had dropped from and then back down again.

“I never wanted any trouble,” Mordivai said.

“Answer the question!”

Ashara spoke up. “He wanted the Sith ghost.”

Ocera nodded. “For no good purpose I assume.”

“It’s a personal matter,” Mordivai said. “Nothing to do with you.”

“ _Everything_ you do concerns me, Sith.”

Master Ryen returned carrying two sets of binders. Mordivai guessed they were Force-resistant.

“Turn around and face the wall,” Ocera ordered. “Put your hands behind you.”

Reluctantly, Mordivai did as he was told. Behind him, he sensed the Cathar approach. Then his wrists were quickly bound into the cuffs.

“You’re too young for this life, son,” Ryen said quietly by his ear. There was regret in his voice.

“Where are the others?” Ocera asked.

Mordivai slowly turned back around to face him. “There are no others. I came alone.”

“You expect me to believe you are really that stupid?”

Mordivai said nothing, refusing to let the Jedi goad him.

“I’ll search the area,” Ryen said. Then he turned back to Mordivai. “Sit down.”

Mordivai stared at him a moment, and then noticed the second set of binders. They meant to cuff his legs. He suppressed a sigh and slid down the wall until he was on the ground. Ryen locked the binders around his ankles, then gestured to Ashara and left the room. She gave him one last furtive look and followed him out.

Master Ocera sheathed his lightsaber and crossed his arms, staring down Mordivai. For long minutes neither of them said anything. Then Master Ryen returned, this time carrying a small lamp, which he set on the ground to better illuminate the room.

“There’s no one in the surrounding forest,” he said, “or if there was, they have moved on.”

Ocera nodded. “Your friends have abandoned you, like the typical cowards they are.”

Mordivai let out a huff and turned his face away. “I told you. I came alone.”

Out of the corner of his vision, Master Ocera lunged forward and Mordivai flinched, expecting a blow. The Jedi grabbed the top of his hood and yanked it back, exposing Mordivai’s face. Then he stepped back again. The two Jedi silently studied him.

“Only an apprentice, surely,” Ryen said.

“But already scarred. Looks can be deceiving.”

Ryen made a noise of assent. “You going to watch him? I can get the sentry alarm.”

“Oh yes. He’s not going out of my sight.”

Ryen nodded and left the room. Ocera stared at Mordivai and Mordivai stared back.

The young Togruta Padawan came into the room next. “What are we going to do with him, Master Ocera?”

“That’s for us to discuss, Ashara. Go back outside with your master.”

Ashara’s shoulders rose and fell briefly in a silent sigh and then she left. Ocera stood before Mordivai like a silent sentinel, as solid as a statue.

“What are you going to do with me?” Mordivai asked.

“If I have my way,” Ocera said, smug satisfaction thick in his voice, “we will bring you to Coruscant for trial.”

“What crime have I committed? You are the ones trespassing on Imperial soil.”

Ocera’s eyes flashed and his face grew grim. Mordivai could sense his agitation through the Force although he quickly harnessed it back under control.

“You are a Sith. That is crime enough.”

Master Ryen stepped back into the room again, this time carrying a small electronic sphere. He tossed it into the air in front of Mordivai and it bounced a moment and then hovered there. Ryen pressed a small button in the back and a red energy field sprouted from the sphere, creating a faint wall before it. Since Mordivai was already wedged into a corner, the wall effectively cut him off, trapping him there.

“There we go,” Ocera said. “You so much as a breathe too loud, Sith, and we will know. That trip alarm senses both vibrations and heat. That little corner is your make-shift cell now.”

Master Ocera remained to watch over him for a while longer, but then the second Padawan entered, a young human who Mordivai had only glimpsed earlier from his rooftop perch.

“Stew’s ready Master Ocera.”

Ocera nodded. He gave Mordivai a withering look and left to follow the boy out. Mordivai sat alone on the ground and contemplated his predicament. He couldn’t let them take him to Coruscant. He wasn’t sure what fate awaited him there, but he had had enough of being traded as a prisoner back and forth between the Empire and the Republic. Would Praven help him at all, or would he be unable, or even unwilling, to intervene? Mordivai worked on escape plans but ended up twisting his brain into knots trying to figure out how to get past the sentry alarm. He could see no way out other than to fight his way out. And that was dangerous. Very much so.

If enough time passed, Khem would notice his absence, and hopefully would come looking for him. He had told Khem of his change of plans in coming here, hadn’t he?

Mordivai sat with his back against the wall, and drifted into a sort of half-sleep. Gradually he became aware that he was catching snippets of conversation as the Jedi sat around their campfire outside. The two masters were having a disagreement about what to do with him. Ocera favored taking him off Taris as their prisoner, while Ryen felt that was too risky and suggested that they simply free him and leave the planet before they were discovered. Mordivai was straining to hear Ocera’s response, when he became aware that someone else was in the room with him.

He lifted his head and saw Ashara standing just outside the energy field holding something in her hand. She knelt down and carefully reached under the energy wall - it didn’t entirely reach the ground - and set a bundle draped in cloth in front of Mordivai. It was fry bread, with steam still coming off of it. Mordivai stared at it longingly. With his hands secured behind his back, he had no way of eating it other than to lay down and then...what? Was he supposed to stick his face in it like a dog?

“Ashara!” Master Ryen appeared in the doorway. “You should not be in here.”

“I was just bringing him a bit of bread. Shouldn’t Jedi show compassion?”

“Your kindness is noted. I don’t want you speaking to the Sith though. It’s not wise.”

Ashara slipped away and Mordivai was alone again. The bread was creating a tantalizing smell. Then Mordivai was reminded of the time Shatine chained him outside on her porch and made him eat from a bowl on the floor, and his appetite soured. He was no slave and was not willing to throw away his dignity just yet.

Sometime later Master Ryen entered, shut off the alarm field and offered to take Mordivai outside to relieve himself. When Mordivai reminded him that he would need his hands free in order to take care of business, Ryen released him with some words of warning.

“I have killed half a dozen Sith,” he said with such a quiet calm that you’d think he was discussing the weather. “You can’t trick me.” He punctuated this with the sound of his lightsaber being lit behind Mordivai’s back. Mordivai did what he had come for as quickly as possible and then let Ryen rebind him with the cuffs. Ocera may have been full of bravado, but Ryen’s unassuming self-assurance reminded Mordivai that even the most peace-loving Jedi was still dangerous.

Mordivai did brave asking for one favor, but Ryen denied him before he barely finished stating his request.

“No,” he said simply. “Your hands stay behind your back. You’ll just have to manage.”

Mordivai was returned to his corner and the energy gate restored into place. As night grew deeper, Mordivai realized that the Jedi were going to sleep outside. Apparently, they’d rather face rakghouls than sleep in the same room with a restless Sith spirit.

Mordivai slumped against the wall with his chin propped on his chest and tried to doze. His shoulders were already aching from the forced confinement, however, and his stomach was rumbling. He closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind.

Someone was watching him. His eyes sprang open and he jerked fully awake. Ashara was in the doorway, peering in.

“Am I the first Sith you’ve seen or something?” Mordivai couldn’t keep the contempt from his voice.

Ashara shrugged and her skin darkened a shade. “I guess.”

So he was more on the mark than he realized. “Not very intimidating am I?”

She crept closer and looked down at him. “You can’t eat that bread I brought you, can you?”

“Not unless you want to see me smash my face into the floor getting to it.”

Ashara winced and gave him an apologetic smile. “Is it true that you are just a scholar?”

Mordivai sighed. “A scholar? Yes. _Just_ a scholar? No. I do know how to use that lightsaber you took from me.”

“I was right not to trust you then. What would you have done if I hadn’t happened upon you?”

“I would have spoken to the ghost and then left. You would have never known I was here.”

“What do you want with the ghost?”

“Answers.”

She waved a hand dismissively. “Obviously. But answers to _what?_ ”

Mordivai gave her a sideways look. “I think those are questions your masters wouldn’t want you asking, don’t you think?”

She frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Surely whatever I have to say would be a corrupting influence. Your Jedi masters shooed you away twice now from me. They don’t trust you near me.”

“Master Ryen is right to want to protect me.”

“He doesn’t trust you to protect yourself?”

Ashara crossed her arms over her chest. “I appreciate his guidance. And I trust his judgement.”

“Yet,” Mordivai said, “you are still here. With me.”

Ashara stiffened. “What do you know of Jedi ways?”

“Quite a bit actually.” Mordivai gave her a cryptic smile.

Ashara crossed her arms. “I find that hard to believe. You look barely older than me.”

“And how old is that?”

“I’m twenty.”

“I’m nearing twenty-two.”

“We’re practically the same age then. You couldn’t have met many Jedi yet.”

“I have known many Jedi. My former master was one of them and so was I.” After spending so long feeling conflicted about this fact, Mordivai found it strangely freeing to admit to it now.

Ashara jerked backwards as if she had been slapped. “You...you were a Padawan once? But...why? Why leave?”

The Sith Code flashed in Mordivai’s head. He smiled at Ashara and gave her a steady look. “The Force has freed me.”

“You could be lying.”

Mordivai shrugged, or tried to anyway before the cuffs stopped him. “Your master keeps you on a short leash.”

Ashara raised her chin and gave him a steady glare. “Maybe if yours had been more cautious, you wouldn’t be here today, a prisoner and a Sith.”

Mordivai gave her a rueful smile and said nothing.

“It’s not like you think,” Asahar said suddenly. “My situation is different. I have a….a history.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Sith ghost here? He is my ancestor. My family were Sith once. Master Ryen only wants to protect me from that fate.”

_The ancestor knows._ Mordivai was more sure than ever now that this was the ghost he was meant to find. While he needed to escape, he was reminded of the urgency of his purpose here. He had to talk to the Sith spirit.

“We have something in common then. I come from a family of Sith as well.”

Ashara’s face grimaced in distaste. “Then my master is right to be so cautious.”

“Why did he take you here? To a site so haunted by dark side energies?”

“We are trying to banish the ghost. Since he will only speak to me, that means the task is mostly mine to fulfil.” She paused and looked down at her feet. “In truth, this is part of my trials.”

They were quiet a moment until Mordivai spoke.

“I can help you with that, you know.”

Ashara’s head shot up. “You’re just trying to trick me.”

“No. We both want the same thing. It’s simply really, and it hurts no one.”

“No.” Asahara held out a hand as if to push him physically away. “It’s my trial. I can’t get help.”

“Then help me instead.”

She stared at him. “You know I can’t do that.”

“I need to speak to the ghost. That’s all I ask.”

“I...I don’t know,” Ashara looked away and toed a rock on the floor. “It’s probably not safe.”

“Your Sith ghost won’t hurt me.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I’ll make sure you are safe from the ghost then. I won’t let it harm you.”

Ashara looked up, her face serious. “You might not have that power.”

“Fine,” Mordivai said. He felt tired and deflated. He let his head fall back against the wall. “Your masters captured me just because they wanted to. Not because I was doing anything wrong.”

“You’re a Sith.”

“You would imprison someone simply for who they are and not for what they have done?”

Ashara looked uncomfortable. “It’s not my place...”

Mordivai raised his head and studied her. She fidgeted and looked away.

“Do you…” Ashara struggled a moment, not meeting his eyes. “...do you want help with that bread? I can hold it for you if you want.”

Mordivai’s mind flashed through his options and then decided a little awkwardness was worth a full stomach. “I would appreciate that. Thanks.”

She reached up and touched the alarm sphere. The red energy wall blinked out.

“Don’t do anything to make me regret this.”

“I’m not foolish enough to take on four Jedi,” Mordivai said.

She slid over to his corner and knelt down beside him. Mordivai watched her pick up the fry bread and hold it out to him. He leaned forward and took a bite. It was cold now, but the edges were still crispy and the insides were soft as a cloud. Mordivai closed his eyes and chewed slowly.

She continued to feed him until the bread was gone. As he took the last bite from her fingertips, she yanked her hand away as if accidentally touching him might burn her. Mordivai pretended he hadn’t noticed. He found himself glancing at the water bottle she had hooked to her belt.

She followed his gaze and looked down. “Um, you want some of my water? I already drank from it.”

“You think I care about that right now?”

“Right. Of course not.” She uncorked the top and carefully tilted the bottle against his mouth. Mordivai guzzled down as much as he could before she took it away.

“Aren’t you afraid being captured in the hands of the enemy like this? All alone?” Ashara rehooked the bottle to her belt and shot him a glance.

“I have been a prisoner before. And worse.”

Ashara stood and reanimated the energy wall. “I’m sorry this happened to you. You don’t seem like a bad person.” She gave him one last lingering look and then left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Ashara has finally made her appearance! I use customization #4 on my Ashara, so that's the look she has in this story. (Dark purple skin, maroon montrals, pale blue markings.) As you have probably noticed, this story does not follow the in game time-line, where by now, the end of Act I would have occurred. I just wanted to focus on a few specific aspects of the story, and I didn't want to feel locked into a blow by blow of the game's plot. Also, by the end of Act III, the game has your character as practically a god, and a Dark Council member to boot, which didn't fit at all with the vision I had for Mordivai. He's still too young to ascend to such heights so fast and I wanted to leave more room for him to grow. So, here we are on Taris, and Zash is still our main villain.


	28. Ghost Hunting

Sometime deep in the early morning hours, Mordivai woke up feeling chilled. Taris was usually humid and muggy, but when Mordivai opened his eyes, he saw his own breath on the air. During the night he had slid down the wall and was now lying awkwardly on the ground. After a few tries, he managed to hoist himself back into a sitting position.

A cold mist blanketed the floor, creeping in his direction like a rolling white tide. Mordivai pressed his back against the wall, feeling wary. He recalled seeing a similar fog back during his trials in the ruins of Kaleth. Something unnatural had been afoot then, and something similarly strange was happening now.

The lantern Master Ryen had left on the floor nearby wavered in its light, momentarily making shadows jump. The mist was rising, twisting, growing upward into a column as a faint bodily shape began to form. Mordivai could just make out the strong, pointed montrals, like horns, that marked the Togruta race. Then the figure solidified and Mordiavi could see a sour-faced Sith hovering in the air before him. Mordivai felt his heart skip a beat when the spirit’s head swiveled to drop its gaze on him. 

“What is this?” The ghost’s voice sounded watery and distant. “Did my little Jedi child leave me a gift? A sacrifice to appease me perhaps?” He let out a gleeful chuckle.

Mordivai cleared his throat to find his voice. “I came looking for your help. The Jedi were here first and captured me.”

“Oh, how inconvenient. I wish you could have gotten rid of them. I am so tired of the child’s pleas and her nagging Jedi friends.”

Mordivai tried to keep his voice strong but respectful. “I need help solving a mystery, one involving some ancient Sith artifacts. I want only knowledge.”

The ghost made a snorting sound. “Sith artifacts signal Sith rituals at work, and Sith rituals can’t be dissected in a brief conversation.”

“I know, but I’m not exactly at liberty to go somewhere more private where we can talk.”

“I can see that. And I am tied here to the site of my ignominious death. If I could leave this place, stinking of the light, I would have done it long ago.”

“Are we at an impasse then?”

“Perhaps…” the ghost said thoughtfully. “Or perhaps not.” He tilted his head as if listening to something. Then his face took on an eager expression. “I can offer you a deal.”

Some voice in Mordivai’s head reminded him that striking bargains with Sith spirits might not be the wisest course of action, but he could see no other way out of this.

“What are the terms?”

“I will help you in your quest. But you must let me join you, hitch a ride, you could say, and take me out of here.”

“How does that work?”

The ghost turned his head as if startled by a sound Mordivai couldn’t hear. “We are running out of time. Your creature approaches. With my power melded to yours, I can help free you, but first I need a promise of blood.”

“A prom-, what’s that mean?”

“I will bind myself to you, and you, in turn will make a binding promise to me. You will release me when I determine that my aid is no longer required.”

Mordivai’s thoughts whirled. He tried to think of stories he had heard or read in the Kaas City library of such bargains. Was there a catch?

“Our opportunity to strike is almost here,” the ghost said testily. “Decide and make your choice!”

“Fine. I’ll do it.”

The ghost started laughing, his voice catching strange echoes from the corners of the room. “Good, good!” He stretched out a hand and Mordivai felt a sharp pain like claws raking across the tender skin of his inner arm. He hissed and tried to jerk away, but the binders prevented movement. He felt blood trickling hot and wet against his fingers.

The ghost smiled and held out his hands. From behind him, Mordivai felt a heat growing at the site of his recent wound, and then he spotted droplets of his own blood rising into the air around him. The blood coalesced into a fog, and for a moment, the ghost was outlined in a red haze, his features becoming prominent and easily discernible. Then the cloud became nebulous again and the ghost’s shape melded into it. The cloud began to spin, twining itself tighter and tighter, until it wound into a cord of smoke. 

The cord writhed in the air a moment, the end probing its surroundings like a hound catching a scent, and then, before Mordivai could react, it dove towards him and slammed into his chest.

Mordivai gasped as the breath was knocked out of him, and twisted in pain. He felt like he’d been pierced by a spear of ice, and when he looked down, he saw with horror that the snake-like cord was burrowing into him. It squirmed, and he felt the urge to scream but no air would leave his throat. A terrible cold burst through his chest, until Mordivai thought that it would freeze his heart solid, but then the tail end of the coil did one last wriggle and disappeared inside him.

Mordivai fell over, his face hitting the dirt. He coughed and sucked in painful gasps of air, releasing a gut-wrenching groan. 

_Hurry!_ The spirit’s voice sounded like an alarm inside his head, causing Mordivai to jerk in surprise. _I will lend my strength to yours._

A sudden well of energy sprang up inside him, and Mordivai felt it shooting like sparks down his torso and out through his limbs. He wrenched his arms apart with a cry and the binders snapped. A second effort broke the ones on his legs.

Mordivai sprang to his feet just as Ashara came bounding into the room.

“Are you all right? What’s goin-”

Mordivai threw out his hand and applied careful pressure to Ashara’s windpipe. Not enough to cut off her air supply, but enough to silence any cry she might make.

Her hands flew to her throat and her eyes widened in surprise.

“Shhhh,” Mordivai said. “Please.”

With his other hand he yanked her two lightsabers from her belt and shoved them into the waistband of his pants. He spotted his own saber also attached to her belt and recalled it back into his hand. It ignited with a satisfying hiss and Mordivai raised his arm to smash the alarm sphere.

_Wait..._ the ghost admonished. _Not yet._

Ashara was staring at him, taking sharp, shallow breaths, her eyes angry and accusing.

_Now!_ the ghost cried.

Mordivai swung, and at that moment, a split second from impact, he heard a yell from outside. Mordivai’s lightsaber blade connected with the alarm sphere and it jerked and went spinning. A blaring alarm wailed from it, and the light from the energy field scattered around the room, shining for a moment into Mordivai’s eyes and momentarily blinding him. He stumbled forward, releasing Ashara.

She let out a fierce cry for help and raced for the doorway.

Shouts resounded from beyond the wall, followed by a monstrous roar. Mordivai ran after Ashara, fearing the worst. Before he could make it outside, Master Ocera came barreling through the doorway, his lightsaber brandished in his hand.

Then he was on him, his glowing blade sweeping towards Mordivai’s chest, forcing Mordivai into battle. Mordivai shuffled backwards, nearly tripping over strewn debris, his eyes struggling to adjust to the searing brightness of their dueling lightsabers. Ocera was relentless, closing every opening before Mordivai could exploit it and anticipating Mordivai’s moves with ease. Mordivai picked up the pace, trying to disorient the Jedi with a sudden spin of his double-edged blade. Ocera blocked it, then counter attacked, and Mordivai teetered backwards as the Ocera’s lightsaber buzzed past his face, its light close enough to leave spots in his vision. The Jedi Master was clearly more experienced than he was, and it took nearly all of Mordivai’s concentration to keep up with him.  
“I don’t…” Mordivai sucked in a breath as he was forced to duck another close call, “...want to fight you!”

“Of course you don’t,” Ocera answered, sounding calm and not nearly as winded as Mordivai. “You know you will fail.”

Mordivai stole a glance at the door, hoping for a moment to see Khem coming in to add back-up, but no doubt he was still engaged his own fight with the other remaining Jedi. The brief moment cost Mordivai dearly, for just then he felt a sharp jolt as his weapon was knocked loose from his hand, and he watched in horror as it flipped end over end through the air, landing in a puff of dust on the ground. He looked up to see Master Ocera’s sword arm raised. His defeat would not be enough, Mordivai realized. The Jedi meant to kill him.

Mordivai’s mind raced and time seemed to slow. The Jedi’s lightsaber came towards him, and Mordivai stumbled backwards away from the blade. He fell, his head snapping back as he hit the dirt. Above him yawned the break in the building’s roof, a black hole lined with jagged stone. Mordivai propelled himself sideways and stretched out an arm towards the opening, lashing out with the Force as he rolled, and then he _pulled._ A section of the roof came down with his motion, and Mordivai finished his roll, tucking his arms around his head, prepared for a blow, although he didn’t know if he should expect it to come from the ceiling far above or Ocera looming just over him. Around him debris fell as chunks of the ceiling collapsed. There was a crash followed by a wave of dust, and Mordivai felt his throat choke up in response. He scrambled away, blind.

Mordivai lifted his head, blinking the dust from his eyes and lashes. In the center of the room was Ocera’s lifeless body, crushed under the weight of a large chunk from the ceiling.

Mordivai stumbled to his feet and retrieved his lightsaber from the ground nearby. Outside he heard Ashara scream. He raced through the doorway.

He found Khem hulking by the campfire, inclining his head over Master Ryen as he held him upright in one of his claws. As Mordivai approached, Khem breathed in one last ragged breath and slowly lowered Ryen to the ground. His eyes flashed red.

Mordivai turned and saw Ashara nearby. She was pointing Master Ryen’s lightsaber in Khem’s direction, her face ashen and her hand faintly trembling.

“The little human Jedi escaped,” Khem said. He pointed to the forest. “He ran off, too cowardly to face me. Only this one is left.” He dropped his gaze on Ashara, and his tongue ran briefly over the fangs that protruded from his jaws.

“You have fed enough tonight Khem. We are letting this Jedi go.”

Khem gave him a steady look, his eyes like bright pebbles and his face as emotionless as ever. “I am never sated, master. Why are we sparing her?”

“She is not responsible for detaining me.”

“I tried to reason with these Jedi as you would have wanted,” Khem said. “I ordered them to release you, but they would not listen. So I had to kill them.”

“I understand. You did well.”

Mordivai gestured to Khem to follow, and walked back to his speeder. He dropped Ashara’s two lightsabers on the ground. He had gotten what he came for, but this victory left a bitter taste in his mouth. He was eager to leave Taris behind.


	29. A New Threat

Mordivai stood at the desk in the Imperial Reclamation Service’s office. Two days he had spent on Taris, and while he had secured the ghost’s help, he had not found Ciela or any sign of what she had been after. By the time he had returned from the ruins of the Jedi enclave and made his way to Site Besh, Ciela was long gone. He wandered uselessly about the site, but gained nothing other than insect bites. He was still left despondent over the deaths of the two Jedi, and could not get the sight of Ashara’s terrified face out of his mind. He had been angry with Khem at first, but then he realized the futility of it. What else had he brought Khem for, if not protection? And the Dashade had done his job. Mordivai believed him when he said the Jedi had attacked first. No doubt they would have, upon having first caught glimpse of a visage like Khem’s.

Mordivai touched his chest, where the memory of that cold burn still lingered. He worried about just how much control he had over this long dead Sith. He wanted to be able to talk him at will, but it was equally important that the ghost should eventually leave when their conversations were done. Being tied to a ghost was disconcerting. And tied he was. He had made a binding promise, which the scars on his arm attested to.

“There is a reward you know,” the official at the Reclamation Service desk was saying. “For freeing the site of the ghost. And you took care of a group of Jedi as well!” The woman flashed a smile at him. “Now we can start excavations there, thanks to you. We are so grateful. Hand me your datapad, if you will my lord, and I will see that the reward money is added to your account.”

Mordivai pushed his datapad across the desk and the woman drew a wand across the surface, making it beep. She handed it back. “Just a moment.”

Mordivai took it. There was a message there, he saw, that must have only recently arrived, because he hadn’t seen it earlier. He opened it.

_Sender: (xx98PLZ encrypt.deadzone-776.H5G)_

_Subject: You can’t hide_

_Message: I know who you are. I know what you are. Disgraces like you will be eliminated. Have no doubt, I will track you down._

 

Mordivai stared at the message. What he was? What did that mean? He thought of the dead Jedi again. Make an enemy of one Jedi, and he could end up with all of them on his tail. Such revenge was not supposed to be the Jedi way, but Mordivai knew better than to think that all Jedi were capable of living up to their ideals. But, how had they found him so quickly?

“It’s all set, my lord,” the official said brightly. “Thank you again!”

Mordivai nodded absent-mindedly and left the building. The spaceport dome loomed just ahead, and Mordivai walked the way alone, having sent Khem back to the ship earlier. He was still pondering the letter when he entered the spaceport. Sith made enemies, he knew that. But not since Ffon had he had an enemy that felt so _personal._

There was a commotion ahead and Mordivai looked up. To his shock, he saw the Togruta Jedi, Ashara, in the midst of a physical struggle with two security guards.

“You can’t arrest me for no reason!” she yelled. 

Mordivai’s path took him closer. He could hear one of the guards responding, using that overly calm tone that usually indicated that he thought they had a real problem on their hands.

“If you’ll just come with us, we’ll look into the reason why your I.D. doesn’t check out.”

Mordivai sunk deeper into his hood and maneuvered around them. Ashara was the last person he wanted to see right now. Her voice was growing more shrill however, making it difficult to ignore. What was she doing in an Imperial spaceport anyway? Why hadn’t she slipped off the planet using the shuttle she and the other Jedi had arrived in? Was she unable to pilot it alone, even with the benefits of a navicomputer?

He took one last glance behind him to see that two more security guards had arrived on the scene, one of them talking rapidly into a comm unit. Mordivai slipped into the hangar, relieved to see his ship and be on his way. The Togruta’s prospects were not good, he knew. Aliens without papers would normally be taken as slaves, but a Force sensitive one would be sent to Korriban, where she would be treated harshly for her alien blood. It was likely she wouldn’t survive.

He was responsible for her predicament, in a way. She was trapped on an Imperial-controlled planet, possibly alone, since that other foolish Padawan had probably gotten himself eaten by Rakghouls by now. If Mordivai had never gone to their camp site, no one would have died and none of this would have happened. Of course, if the Jedi masters had just let him go on his way, none of this would have happened either, but that had always been an unlikely outcome.

Mordivai got back to his ship and began to prepare for departure. He caught himself staring blankly at the controls at the cockpit, and realized that he hadn’t been paying attention to anything he was doing for the last five minutes. He sighed. There was no way he could leave Ashara to her fate as an Imperial prisoner.

He left the ship and went to the spaceport security office. Ashara was there, already fitted into a Force-dampening collar and sealed in an energy cell. Mordivai tugged his hood into place and marched over to the first officer he saw.

“I see you got the Padawan. I’ll take her off your hands now.”

“She’s a Jedi?” The officer blanched and shot a wary look in the direction of Ashara’s cell. “We assumed she had stolen the lightsabers. We found her trying to grab a shuttle off-world. No identification whatsoever.”

“She is the last of four Jedi I have been hunting. I commend you for her capture and will speak well of your efforts to your superiors. Release her to me so I can get going.”

“Four Jedi? There were others here on Taris?” The man rushed behind a counter and began typing furiously on a datapad.

“Yes, talk to the Imperial Reclamation Service if you need the details. The Jedi have been taken care of, and this one I must return to my master for questioning. You have her things?”

“Her?--Oh, yes the lightsaber. I have it right here.” The man pulled open a drawer and set a saber hilt on the counter. Mordivai stared at him expectantly.

“There was a second lightsaber?”

“Oh!” The man yanked open the drawer again, looking flustered, and pulled out the other hilt. “It had rolled to the back of the drawer.” He laughed nervously.

Mordivai took them both and turned to stare at Ashara’s cell. She was watching him, her eyes murderous.

“Do you need an escort, my lord?”

“An escort? What for?”

“For the Jedi. I mean...I wasn’t sure if you wanted to take her out of here alone. She was being quite belligerent only a few minutes ago.”

Mordivai waved his hand dismissively. “That won’t be needed. There is nowhere left for her to run.” He gave Ashara what he hoped was a meaningful look.

“Very well, my lord.” The officer went to Ashara’s cell and punched in a code on the nearby datalock. The energy walls sunk into the floor and disappeared.

Mordivai turned to face Ashara, making sure she had a clear view of his face beneath the hood so that she would recognize him.

“You’re coming with me.”

She glared at him, but said nothing. Under the lights of the security office, he could see now that she had dusky purple skin and reddish montrals. He had read that the colorful skin tones of the Togruta species were a form of camouflage on their world, and he wondered if such colors were indicative of what region a Togruta clan was from. What place could have such strangely colored plant life?

Ashara stepped out of the cell and began to walk ahead of him.

“Move along,” Mordivai said. He prodded her in the back with the hilt of his lightsaber, not too harshly he hoped, but enough to keep up appearances. He couldn’t tell yet if Ashara had any clue that this was really a rescue. They paraded through the spaceport, earning a few curious looks since Ashara was still wearing her collar and wrist binders. Everyone knew better not to stare too openly.

He guided Ashara to the hangar where his ship waited. Her footsteps slowed as they grew closer and the ship came into view. While Mordivai used his ship primarily for transport and as a second residence, it was outfitted for war and made an impressive sight. Ashara trudged up the gang plank, and Mordivai was forced to prod her again to get her through the door.

The door sealed shut behind them. Immediately, Ashara spun around to face him.

“So now I’m _your prisoner,_ is that it? As if you haven’t done enough already?”

“You are not my prisoner.” Mordivai raised his hand and the cuffs on Ashara’s wrists snapped and fell to the floor. He hesitated only briefly before doing the same to the Force-dampening collar around her neck.

Ashara dropped her gaze to the ground where the broken binders lay and then back up at Mordivai.

“What is this?”

“I’m helping you get off-planet.”

“You’re helping me? Why?”

“Because I know what happens to Jedi who are sent to Korriban. And that would have been your next stop.”

Mordivai stepped past her and went to the cockpit. Ashara followed him and watched as he got the ship through the spaceport departure routine and up beyond Taris’s atmosphere. Mordivai set the autopilot and spun his chair to face the doorway. Ashara stood there, still waiting for him.

“I’ll drop you at the nearest neutral planet or spaceport. How’s that sound?”

“That’s...that’s fine.” Ashara still looked like she expected him to grow horns and turn nasty.

“So, what happened? Why couldn’t you take the shuttle off Taris the way you came in?”

Ashara looked away, her face crestfallen. “The other Padawan escaped on the shuttle. Without me. Everything is a mess. I failed my Jedi trials. They want to hold me on Tython while they conduct an investigation. They were sending someone to come get me off Taris, but I can’t go back to Tython.” Her eyes reached his face, and Mordivai almost pulled back in surprise at the fire of emotion in them. “They think I fell for _your_ trickery.”

“No one was supposed to get hurt. You weren’t supposed to be there at all in fact. You were _illegally_ on Taris, remember?”

“Master Ryen and Master Ocera are _dead!_ ”

She was nearly trembling with anger, and while her reaction was understandable, Mordivai knew the Jedi would never admit into the Order someone who couldn’t control their emotions.

“I regret their deaths.” He hoped she could feel the sincerity in his words. “But why is the Council investigating you?”

“The other Padawan...he’s probably ashamed that he ran away while I stayed behind and still lived. I think he made a big deal over how you...how everyone else died except me. And then the ghost was mysteriously gone. They think there’s a connection.”

“They think you bargained your life for the ghost?”

“I think so.”

“The ghost is with me.”

“What do you mean?”

“He bound himself to me and now he...well, he’s sort of inside me now.”

She gave him a look that said she wasn’t sure if he was telling the truth.

Mordivai changed the subject. “Where are you going to go, once you get out of Imperial space?”

“I need to find someone who will speak on my behalf, who can convince the Council to give me another chance. There’s a Master Cyman I want to find on Alderaan. Maybe he’ll listen to reason.” She turned away as if to leave.

“I hope you are right.”

Ashara whirled on him, her anger rekindled. “Why do you act like you even care about any of this? I don’t want your sympathy, Sith.”

Mordivai sighed. “I’m not your enemy. And I have a name. My name is Mordivai.”

She stared at him in disbelief and then frowned. “How can I trust you?”

Mordivai gestured at the ship around them, already deep within the emptiness of space. “You don’t exactly have a lot of options here, you know.”

“I know my way with a lightsaber,” she said suddenly. “I was the best duelist in my class.”

“You’ll be safe on my ship. Even from the Dashade.”

She jerked away. “That...thing that killed Master Ryan? He’s on your ship? No, I…” For the first time, her confidence looked shaken.

Mordivai stood up from the chair and tried to take on a reassuring tone. “He won’t hurt you. Your Master attacked him just like the other Jedi attacked me. We fought to defend ourselves only.”

‘“I saw what happened.” Ashara lifted her chin and appeared to take a fortifying breath. “Fine. The monster follows your orders?”

“His name is Khem. And yes, he obeys me.”

Ashara looked unconvinced.

“Let’s get this out of the way now,” Mordivai said, an idea striking him. He moved down the hallway and gestured for Ashara to follow. “Khem! Come meet our new guest.”

Ashara fell backwards, bumping into a nearby wall. “No, I didn’t mean-”

A moment later, Khem stepped around the corner, his clawed toes making light taps across the metal floor. Mordivai suspected that he’d been listening in all the while. “Yes, master?”

“This is Ashara,” Mordivai said. “She will be staying with us for a little while. You will keep her safe and unharmed. Is that understood?”

Khem’s red eyes raked over Ashara and then back to Mordivai. “The Jedi? If you wish it.”

“I do.”

“Is that all?”

“That’s all Khem.” He turned back to Ashara. “Do you feel any better?”

Her face was ashen gray. Her eyes still stared at the corner where Khem had just disappeared. After a moment, she flicked her gaze towards Mordivai. “Maybe.”

“Let me show you your quarters.”

Mordivai led her to his spare room, grateful now that he had not turned it into a library like he had been considering. Ashara stepped inside the door and sunk onto the bed, hunching in on herself and looking lost.

“Everything is dark and gloomy here,” she said.

“Imperials like the color gray.” Mordivai shrugged and tried to offer her a smile.

“Yeah. I noticed.” Then she added, “Thanks for getting me off Taris.” The words were pulled begrudgingly from her mouth.

“You’re welcome. Oh. I believe these are yours.” Mordivai took the two lightsabers from his belt and held them to Ashara.

“You’re giving me my lightsabers back?”

“A gesture of good faith between us. Agreed?”

Ashara took the hilts from him and cradled them in her lap. “Agreed.”

Mordivai nodded and left her alone.


End file.
